


I May Not Have a Lot to Give (But What I Got I'll Give to You)

by DontLetHimGo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (Four years), (Louis' parents), (Only minor), (sort of), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Crushes, Feminine Harry, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Growing Up Together, Homophobic Language, Kid Fic, M/M, May be classed as underage (Harry is seventeen), Minor Violence, Orphan Louis, Overstimulation, Past Character Death, Pet Names, Secret Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontLetHimGo/pseuds/DontLetHimGo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“What are you doing?” Louis asks bluntly, his eyes moving across the numerous stuffed animals and a Barbie doll in a circle on the picnic blanket Harry is sitting on.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m, uh, having a tea party,” Harry replies nervously, hands wringing together on his lap.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Louis considers what used to be his normal response to this sort of situation – like when he’d catch the younger kids at the house talking to their imaginary friends and then proceed to take the piss out of them until they cry (he’s not cruel; they’re just not old enough to understand his teasing, he swears) – but completely changes his mind when he sees a worried look shining in Harry’s eyes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That sounds cool,” Louis comments, hesitating before adding his enquiry: “Am I invited?”</em>
</p><p> Despite having pretty much everything a boy his age should want, Harry still feels like there's something missing. That something appears to be Louis Tomlinson. </p><p>{A Lady and the Tramp inspired AU}</p>
            </blockquote>





	I May Not Have a Lot to Give (But What I Got I'll Give to You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelgraceling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelgraceling/gifts).



> I have to say that I really hope you're okay with this, hazelgraceling, as I think I may have taken a slightly different route to what you were expecting when you prompted a 'fairytale au'! I'm really sorry if it's not what you wanted!
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has helped me with this - I shall make you known when the authors are revealed!!
> 
> This has actually been super fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title from 'Can't Buy Me Love' by the Beatles.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction, and all elements of this are fictional.
> 
> Edit 15/08/14 - So yes, I am the Anonymous Creator of this fic! (Not that it remained anonymous for very long!) I want to give an absolutely MASSIVE thank you to [Jacqueline](http://thegirl-withthebooks.tumblr.com/) for being my beta, Sophie (who needs to get tumblr) for her masses of help and Rebecca (who also needs to get tumblr) for her moral support :) You're all incredible.
> 
> This is a work written by myself, and I do not wish for it to be posted elsewhere. Even if you give me credit, I would much prefer that it stay here on ao3 and on my tumblr only. Thank you!

The garden always looks best in the summer.

The flowers are all in bloom, showing off every colour of the rainbow as far as the eye can see, bright against the emerald green grass and azure sky. So, on the occasional days when the rainclouds don’t show their face (it is England, after all) it’s where Harry spends most of his time.

At age eight (and a half, mind you) Harry is starting to notice what loneliness is. As it is the summer holidays, and with the fact that his family moved out of the middle of town recently, he no longer sees his friends every day. He also has no brothers or sisters to keep him company in the meantime, and his parents don’t see just how much this affects him; it’s not their fault, but they still believe he’s happy talking to himself and pretending he’s with a group of friends in his imagination, when in reality… there’s no one. No one but the insects in the flowers and the birds flying above.

Today, the sky isn’t completely clear yet; off-white, fluffy clouds linger, their presence occasionally blocking out the sun’s rays. Harry treads carefully across the finely cut grass, obeying his mother’s wish of him ‘getting out from under her feet until lunch’. He knows that she’ll still be watching from the window however, to make sure that he doesn’t stray too far or do something he shouldn’t.

He eventually reaches the end of the garden, where there is a hedge forming a barrier between him and the field beyond (which is often patrolled by some scary-looking cows). It is empty today though, and Harry takes his normal seat beneath a pink-blossomed cherry tree before separating his lips to speak. (There are still days when his imagination can be a somewhat substitute of real company.)

“Who are you?”

Those words definitely didn’t come out of Harry’s mouth, so he – with his little heart pounding in his chest at being found – spins around to the hedge (where the sound came from) and sees two blue eyes staring back at him through a gap in the branches.

“I’m Harry – who are you?”

There’s a pause as the other boy appears to be considering his answer.

“Louis,” he eventually says.

“Why are you in the field?” Harry asks, shifting onto his knees so he can shuffle closer to the hedge.

Louis shrugs. “Just wanted to be.” He pauses again, taking his time with his words. “I’ve never seen you before.”

It’s an obvious statement, and Harry’s not entirely sure how to respond. “Well, I’ve never seen _you_ before,” he states, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s that in your hair?” Louis suddenly asks, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

Harry reaches up, a bashful smile appearing on his face when his hand comes into contact with the flimsy plastic.

He found it in the upstairs bathroom, where his mum had been messing about with her hair before going out the other night. She leaves them everywhere; hairclips and hair bobbles of every colour and type, most of which were an impulse buy when she had been out shopping and her hair kept getting into her eyes. Unfortunately, Harry’s hair is not quite long enough to tie up (and he has plans to grow it) but the sparkly clips sit in his hair perfectly.

Prettily.

Louis must’ve noticed Harry’s hesitation to answer, as he starts speaking once again.

“It’s really nice – I was just wondering.” His voice is slightly panicked; almost as if he’s worried that he’s upset the other boy.

Harry continues to smile. “Thank you,” he says softly.

There’s a moment as the two of them continue to look at one another through the hedge, each of their eyes glittering with the prospect of someone new to talk to.

“Do you-?”

“Harry!”

Harry’s enquiry is interrupted by a voice echoing across the lawn. Looking in the direction of the sound, the boy sighs when he sees his mother stood on the porch outside the back door, waving and gesturing for him to go over to her. He holds his bottom lip between his teeth and turns back to the hedge, only realising then that Louis has already disappeared.

~*~

It’s missing.

_Again._

He knows where it is, of course - no one but James could’ve possibly taken it out of his wardrobe – but getting it back is always difficult. As he contemplates simply forgetting about it and just going without, he has an idea.

“Hey, Lou; did you notice that-?”

“Yes, I did.” He turns his head slowly to face the doorway where another boy is stood, his raven black hair stark against the off-white walls. “You’re gonna help me get it back.”

“Why do you always drag me into this?”

“Because, Zayn, you’re lucky to be my best friend. Now get a move on.”

Zayn rolls his eyes before turning on his heel and leaving the room, already knowing what he needs to do – this has happened too many times before.

“Who the fuck has been in my room?”

Louis sprints down the stairs, high-fiving Zayn on his way past before pushing through the front door, guitar on his back. He keeps going at a fast pace down the road away from the house, until he’s round the corner and definitely away from the wrath of James.

The field gets more and more overgrown every time he’s there, despite the fact that its current occupants are some rather ravenous cows – whom, he's learnt, are not so bad when they get used to you.

Disappointed to find one of said cows in his normal spot, he turns in the other direction as he shields his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. Spotting the ridiculously large mansion across the other side, he has a brief thought of the boy in its garden the other week. Louis can’t help but wonder why he was all alone; just sat under a tree with no one to talk to but himself.

With determination set in his eyes, he hitches his guitar-bag higher on his back and marches over to the hedge separating him from the boy’s garden.

“Harry,” he hisses, peeking through the same gap as before.

The younger boy sucks in a sharp breath and turns to face the hedge, frantically trying to tug something out of his hair. Louis sees what looks to be a shiny tiara falling onto the grass before Harry visibly relaxes.

“Oh,” he says, overly nonchalant, “hello Louis.”

“What are you doing?” Louis asks bluntly, his eyes moving across the numerous stuffed animals and _a Barbie doll?_ in a circle on the picnic blanket Harry is sitting on.

“I’m, uh, having a tea party,” Harry replies nervously, hands wringing together on his lap.

Louis considers what used to be his normal response to this sort of situation – like when he’d catch the younger kids at the house talking to their imaginary friends and then proceed to take the piss out of them until they cry (he’s not cruel; they’re just not old enough to understand his teasing, he swears) – but completely changes his mind when he sees a worried look shining in Harry’s eyes.

“That sounds cool,” Louis comments, hesitating before adding his enquiry: “Am I invited?”

Harry’s face must light up enough to power all of the buildings in town, Louis thinks, as the younger boy nods excitedly and grabs a plastic teacup and saucer from in front of a rainbow coloured elephant. He crawls clumsily over to the hedge on his hands and knees, passing the items through the gap into Louis’ waiting hands. There’s a small puddle of water in the bottom of the cup.

“I’m not allowed real tea – obviously,” Harry chatters, refilling his own cup with the matching teapot. “Mummy lets me have tea before bed. Only if I’ve been good, though.”

Louis shrugs, still staring into the bottom of the teacup. “I’ve never had tea before.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Never?” At Louis’ shake of head, Harry gasps again. “You’ll have to come over one night and have some.”

With a bashful smile on his face, hidden by the cup as he takes a sip, Louis can’t help but wonder how this boy has actually just invited him to his house when this is only their second meeting. There’s something there though; something that makes Louis want to stick around. Harry gives off some sort of aura that is kindness and understanding in its purest form – and that’s what Louis needs. He’s tired of judgemental; tired of violent; tired of the sympathy he never gets.

He just longs to be seen as someone who’s not ‘one of those orphan kids’.

Harry’s still smiling at him when he looks back up from his drink, so he can’t help but do any other than smile brightly back; a facial expression that hasn’t appeared on his face for a long time – apart from in the company of Zayn.

“You should smile more often,” Harry says randomly, his eyes still twinkling. “You look really nice when you do.”

 _Jesus Christ_ , Louis must be getting desperate if he feels flattered by the innocent compliment given by a boy who might not even be nine years old.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hoping that his cheeks aren’t colouring too obviously.

The two boys sit and chat over their cups of “tea” for the next hour or so. Louis is surprised by how a boy much younger than him (by four years, as he finds out) is actually good at holding conversation – and he loves the way Harry is very enthusiastic when Louis gets out his guitar part-way through and starts playing silly little tunes that he’s taught himself.

“I’m glad you came back,” Harry says once Louis has finished a rather good rendition of ‘Smoke on the Water’.

Louis looks up from the strings of his guitar and grins. “Well I heard that someone was holding a tea-party here today and thought that it would be good to crash.”

A soft chuckle breaks through Harry’s pink lips. “You’re fun to talk to.”

Before Louis has chance to return the compliment, Harry’s name is being called by the same voice as before.

“Oh, I need to go,” Harry explains, hurriedly throwing all of his toys into a big reusable shopping bag, along with his tea set.

Louis no longer has his teacup at this point, so he simply watches as the younger boy gets everything tidied away. “See you later, Harry,” he says.

“Bye Lou.” With one last grin on his face, he turns on his heel and sprints back to the house, meeting what Louis assumes is his mother on the porch.

Louis feels his shoulders hunch over as he looks down at the grass in front of him, tugging it out of the ground in fistfuls. He already feels so alone. It’s ridiculous really; how one small boy with intelligence better than his – despite the age difference – and charm that is impossible to be anything other than likeable could affect him in such a way.

It’s then that he notices something shiny lying in the grass close to the gap in the hedge. Once he’s looked up to check that no one is watching him, he reaches through before his hands are met by cool metal. It’s the tiara that Harry was wearing. Louis pulls it through the hedge and inspects it closely. It’s silver, studded with tiny clear and turquoise gemstones.

And it’s really pretty.

Just like Harry.

~*~

The nanny arrives two weeks before Harry has to return to school after the summer holidays. She seems nice, with a kind face and brown hair speckled with grey piled on the top of her head in a stylish bun. She smiles when Harry opens the door, and introduces herself as ‘Mrs Robinson’ – “or you can call me Diane,” she adds.

When his mum is too busy for him, it’s Diane that is always there – watching his every move like a hawk. It makes it much more difficult to get out into the garden to see Louis.

The two boys had met up nearly every day of the summer holidays, just chatting through the hedge and drinking water – and occasionally orange squash – out of plastic teacups. There were occasional times when Louis wouldn’t turn up one day and would appear the next with apologies, talking about it being difficult to get out, or something about his privileges overlapping - God knows what that meant.

Harry had realised that Louis was the friend he needed when he returned the day after their second meeting with the tiara Harry thought he had lost, explaining nervously that he took it because he was worried it would get ruined if the weather was bad overnight. The younger boy had smiled, taking it from him gratefully and placing it – albeit still cautiously – in his hair. When Louis had told him that it suited him, he decided that this blue eyed boy was the company he’d always wanted - someone who accepts him for the way he is and cares enough to even compliment him for it.

Plus, they always have fun conversations, and Harry thinks he can play the guitar pretty well.

However, when Diane is there, he knows that he can’t just say, “I’m going out to see the boy that sits in the field behind our house,” - let alone tell her to leave him alone.

So, seeing Louis becomes less of a daily thing – to Harry’s disappointment.

~*~

It’s rare for Harry to be the one to not turn up – well; it’s not even rare, as it’s never happened before – so Louis isn’t really sure how to react when Harry isn’t on the other side of the hedge when he gets there the day after he returned the tiara. Of course, he concludes that Harry must’ve just had other plans for the day, but there’s still a tinge of worry at the back of his brain as he stands up, packs his guitar away and starts the walk back to the house.

He really hopes that none of the younger kids try and latch onto him when he gets home, as all he wants to do is sit in his room, and maybe chat to Zayn while they wait for their Xbox privileges.

It appears that he’s not that lucky.

Despite being only twelve, he’s one of the oldest kids in the house, so he’s constantly reminded that the younger ones are heavily influenced by him and his actions. He’s grown sick of the phrases, _“Be responsible for your actions, Lewis,”_ and _“These children look up to you; make that a good thing.”_ Firstly, _Lewis_ is not how his name is pronounced – sure there was a phase where he requested that people say his name differently, but that’s all in the past now and he really doesn’t want that being repeated. Secondly, surely – as he’s still a child himself – he really shouldn’t be relied on so much to be a good influence.

Ergo, he isn’t a good influence.

So sue him.

“Lou!”

Louis feels at least two pairs of arms wrapped around his legs, and someone is already sat on his feet. He smiles and reaches down the ruffle the hair of the boy crushing his trainers, before pressing kisses to the heads of the two girls latched onto his legs.

He may not be a good influence, but he can’t help but be nice to them. They are all in the same situation, after all.

“You all okay?” he says, carefully dislodging himself from each of their vice-like grips.

Instead of getting a response to his question, the youngest girl, Jess, says, “Will you come and play with us?”

“Um…” Louis looks wistfully up the stairs, where he knows that Zayn is probably waiting in their shared room for a game of cards to kill the time before their Xbox hour. “Maybe tomorrow, yeah? I have to talk to Zayn.”

Jess nods slowly in understanding, her hopeful facial expression crumbling slightly under Louis’ apologetic look. The other kids do the same as they slowly release their grips on Louis’ clothes.

“I’m sorry,” he says again before sprinting upstairs and down the corridor to their room. Once the door is open, he sees Zayn sat cross-legged in the middle of the carpet, organising a game of clock-solitaire surrounding him.

He looks up at Louis’ entrance. “You’re a bit early back.”

Louis shrugs, flopping down onto the floor opposite. “Wasn’t in the mood today really.”

When Zayn raises an eyebrow, Louis is reminded of the fact that the boy in front of his is actually his best friend, and can read him better than any of the comic books the two of them have managed to accumulate over the years.

“Okay; maybe that’s _not_ the reason,” Zayn comments after a moment, watching Louis squirm uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Maybe not,” Louis replies, “but maybe I’m not going to tell you the real one.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, stacking up the piles of cards surrounding him and shuffling them. “Whatever you say.”

It’s after a round of Cheat that Louis finally gives in.

After Zayn has dropped his ‘two threes’ onto the pile, Louis opens his mouth to do the same with his two aces, but what comes out instead is:

“It’s stupid, really.”

The remaining cards in Zayn’s hand are placed face-down on the grubby carpet as he raises his eyebrows once again, this time in genuine curiosity. _Go on._

“There’s this…kid. He’s like, eight years old, but really, really clever – I reckon he might be cleverer than me – and he just seems so lonely, Zee; it really seems like he has no one.”

“And you just go and meet him in the field?”

Louis nods and tilts his head a little. “He sits in his back garden—we talk through the hedge.”

There’s a generally unreadable expression on Zayn’s face, but the general message it sends across to Louis is _why are you wasting your time on visiting an eight year old kid that has it better than we do?_

Truth is, Louis doesn’t even know that himself. It’s almost as if Harry has something about him that drags Louis in; makes him want to be there for the younger boy, through thick and thin. It’s all pretty ridiculous; they’ve only been meeting up almost every day for the past two weeks, but they already know each other so well, and Louis thinks that he could almost count Harry as being one of his friends.

“So, the reason you’ve been disappearing all of the time recently is because of him then, right?” Zayn asks, a tentative smile painted on his features. At Louis’ nod, he continues. “And you’re early back today because…?”

“He didn’t turn up,” Louis finished, plucking at a loose thread on his t-shirt.

Zayn’s mouth opens in an ah of understanding. “You reckon you’ll go back tomorrow?”

The other boy shrugs half-heartedly. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Louis doesn’t voice the thought that’s bouncing off every corner of his mind as Zayn returns his cards to his hands. He can only hope that it’s him being overly pessimistic - as usual. However, as he wonders if Harry has given up on him like everybody else in his life has, a little spark of hope remains just below the surface of his skin as it makes his hairs stand on end.

_What if Harry cares about him?_

~*~

It’s been a week and a half since Diane first arrived, and Harry is already at a loss of things to do. Sitting inside is incredibly boring, but it’s almost as if pathetic fallacy is on his side, as not one of the days that he’s been unable to go outside has actually had particularly nice weather.

For the first three days, he watches as Louis walks across the field and crouches down beside the hedge for about ten minutes before leaving. Each day, his pace gets slightly slower as his feet drag through the overgrown weeds and long grass. After that, Harry never notices him again.

“Oh, Harry dear, have you-?”

Harry’s thoughts are interrupted by Diane pausing in the doorway to Harry’s bedroom, closing her mouth delicately as she catches the boy dropping his tiara onto the floor and biting his lip nervously.

“I’m really sorry, Diane; I know I shouldn’t have taken it. Please don’t tell Mummy – I’ll put it back in her room; she won’t even notice, I promise!” Harry’s breaths are coming out fast as his eyes fill with part-embarrassed, part-guilty tears.

Diane stands in the doorway for a moment longer before slowly stepping into the room and walking across to where Harry is sat cross-legged on the rug. “So it isn’t yours?”

The boy’s eyes widen as he shakes his head frantically. “No. Boys aren’t allowed to wear pretty things.”

With a gentle frown furrowing her eyebrows together, Diane sits down beside him, cringing slightly as her joints click, the sound suddenly stark in the otherwise quiet room. “Who told you that?”

Harry opens his mouth to respond, but closes it shortly after. He doesn’t actually know the answer to that question—all he knows is that if he wore one of his hairclips – or, god forbid, his tiara – to school, everybody would probably look at him funny. Nearly every single girl in his school wears multi-coloured ribbons and hair bobbles  in their hair to keep it out of their face, and of course Harry doesn’t need that, but he can’t help being a little bit jealous that they’re allowed to, and he can’t. It’s even worse when they play dress-up at break and have dresses made of pretty fabrics, and flowercrowns made from plastic flowers, and Harry just wants it all.

Diane is still looking at him with a questioning expression on her face, so he simply says, “I’m weird.”

The curious look disappears, but the frown remains on the woman’s face. “No, you’re not. Everybody’s different, and just because you’re not a girl doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy what they do.” After a pause, in which Harry still looks incredibly nervous, Diane adds: “In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’ll be able to bring you a few things.”

Harry perks up at that. “Really?”

“Of course.” Diane smiles. “Now, how about we take back that tiara to your mummy’s room, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you a replacement.”

~*~

It’s hot.

_Really hot._

Harry sits in his room with every single one of his windows thrown open, the curtains billowing and the longer bits of his hair fluttering in the light breeze from outside. On the floor beneath the window appears to be the coolest part of his room to sit, so that’s where he resides, surrounded by his cuddly toys and dolls as they have conversations in voices supplied by the boy himself. He sits proudly in the centre of them all, new tiara perched on top of his head, delicate plastic rings on all of his fingers and a majestic, fuchsia-pink cloak hanging from his shoulders. Diane is downstairs, cooking or sewing or something, and Harry has a brief fleeting thought of escaping the house and going outside. After an internal debate lasting just over five minutes, he gets onto his feet and, with his lip held in his teeth and cloak wrapped tight around him, marches out of the room and straight down the corridor to the secondary staircase. He’s hoping that his choice of route is better for not getting caught.

Unfortunately, he’s wrong.

“Harry? Where are you going, dear?”

The boy freezes where he’s stood about seven feet away from the back door.  “Nowhere?”

“If you want to go outside, you may. It’s perfectly understandable with this weather.”

The grip Harry has on his cloak loosens and the material slips through his fingers. “I can?”

“Did you think that you weren’t allowed?”

Harry can’t exactly explain the fact that he was worried she’d follow him out and catch him talking to Louis, so he just nods. Then, without another word, Diane ushers him outside and closes the door behind him.

Harry is happy to return to the feeling of déjà vu as he wanders down the garden, sitting under his normal tree and faux-casually checking through the gap to see if anyone is there.

There isn’t.

It can only be expected – it has been a week and a half, and Louis is probably tired of waiting for him. That’s what Harry tells himself anyway. He sort of wishes he had a way of getting in touch with Louis to tell him that he’s finally managed to escape the house, but neither of them have mobile phones, and Harry doesn’t know anything about Louis’ home.

He wonders if Louis’ family is as nice as he is. It would make sense, after all, as they would’ve been around all of his life. Harry hopes he can meet them all one day... maybe Louis will invite him over for tea.

He hopes so.

~*~

“You’re absolutely positive that you don’t want to come with us.”

Louis rolls his eyes where they are fixed on the off-white ceiling of his room. “Yes, Zayn: I’m positive that I don’t want to go with you.”

Zayn perches on the edge of the mattress by Louis’ feet, his eyebrows furrowed in a concerned frown, which looks almost comical with the amount of fake blood trickling from the ‘wounds’ scattered across his face.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Louis suddenly comments, "but surely I'm too old for this now. I'm thirteen, for God's sake!"

Zayn sighs. “We all know that your age isn't the reason," he says. _Like it's obvious._ "It’s completely under-”

“-standable, I know,” Louis finishes. “I just...ugh.”

_On This Day, Seven Years Ago_

__

_“And the winner for the best Halloween costume goes to...Louis!”_

_Louis’ insides positively explode in happiness as he eagerly sprints to the front of the hall to collect his bag of halloween-themed sweets from the headteacher. As he turns around, he notices Stan jumping up and down on the spot, screaming so loudly that he gets told off by one of the other teachers. With a massive grin still on his face, Louis jumps down from the stage and runs back to his best friend, pushing past about three different kids who are actually crying because they lost. Babies._

_“I said you’d win, didn’t I?”_

_Louis just carries on smiling, his face stretching so much that his facepaint wrinkles slightly around his eyes. The main lights in the hall turn on then, and everybody starts to leave, including the teachers to make sure that the children have parents to go home with. School parties can be so rubbish. (But this one has been surprisingly good, because Louis actually won something.)_

_“Let’s go and wait on the wall. We can eat my prize sweets.”_

_Stan positively beams before he’s grabbing Louis’ wrist and the two of them are running outside, ignoring the adult voices telling them to ‘take their time’._

_The wall is cold underneath them as they perch on top of it, kicking their legs back and forth as they remove the wrappers from the sweets and pop them into their mouths. They chatter between them the whole time, until it’s time for Stan to go._

_“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he says as he hops down, handful of sweets to take home._

_“Yeah,” Louis replies around the sweets in his mouth, giggling as one of them turns sour on his tongue._

_Stan grins and hurries away to his mum, who opens the car door for him and waves back to Louis before asking her son all about the party. They drive away, and Louis is left alone._

__

_The shivering starts about forty minutes later._

_There’s not one child left but him; there’s no teachers left but one. Said teacher, Mr Jameson, is now sat beside him on the wall, and neither of them are holding up a proper conversation._

_“I really think we should sit inside, Louis.”_

_“They’ll be here really soon, Mr Jameson. Just you wait.”_

_So that’s exactly what they do: wait._

To this day, Louis still wonders what possibly could’ve killed his parents.

Sure, he knows it was a car crash on the way to picking him up from a school Halloween party, but was it a hare trying to cross over the road? A cat? A fucking chicken?

There were no witnesses, there was no evidence left on the scene, and there ended up being no follow-up investigation. It seemed like the only person who actually cared about his parents’ death was Louis himself.

Hmph.

“I’ll come with you,” Louis suddenly declares, sitting up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He walks across the Zayn’s dresser and pulls out random items of clothing.

“Um, that’s great,” Zayn says, “but what the fuck are you doing?”

Louis looks back over his shoulder and grins cheekily. “Well, I have to dress up, right? So I’m going as Zayn Malik.”

~*~

“I can’t believe you’ve dressed up as a fairy again,” Niall says when Harry reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m a fairy prince-” Harry cuts himself off. He has to be at least a little bit boy-y. “A fairy prince, actually. Plus, I swear you were a skeleton last year.”

“You must have bad memory, ‘cause I was a wizard, Harry.”

“Harry?”

Harry’s mum’s voice drags him away from his best friend, and he turns to where she’s talking to Niall’s older brother. “Yes, Mummy?”

“You’ll be good for Greg, won’t you? And don’t be greedy with your sweets.”

“I won’t; I promise.” Harry runs over to give his mum a hug, adjusting his flowercrown once he’s pulled back.

“I heard that some of the kids from the orphanage are trick or treating this year,” Niall comments as they make their way down Harry’s street. “I hope that they aren’t greedy with their treats.”

Greg tuts, leaning down to ruffle his little brother’s hair. “Just because they’re orphans, it doesn’t mean that they’ll be greedy, Ni. They’re just like us.”

When they reach the end of the road, they see a large group of children on the other side, outside Mrs Trewer’s gate. They look mostly older than Niall and Harry, so once they’ve crossed, they are slightly cautious - especially Harry, who is starting to regret his costume choice.

That’s until he sees one of the members of the group.

When Greg stops to warn one of the oldest kids that Mrs Trewer isn’t the type to give any treats other than mouldy fruit, Harry makes eye contact with the boy stood with a couple of others, his hair styled in a ridiculously almost-vertical quiff and a leather jacket with black skinny jeans on his small frame.

“Louis,” Harry breathes, as if he can’t even believe what he’s seeing.

“What was that?” Niall asks.

“Nothing.” Harry replies, his face lighting up when Louis grins at him. They look at each other for a few more moments, just smiling, until Louis mouths:

“You look really nice.”

Harry feels the blush rising on his cheeks almost immediately, so he looks down and adjusts his flower crown, even though it’s barely moved since he sorted it out earlier. No one’s ever properly complimented him on his more ‘girly’ clothes before - other than Louis when he said how pretty his tiara is. Everyone else tends to say something along the lines of, _‘come on, Harry; you’re nine years old now - you should be too old for dressing up’._

When he glances back up again, he still sees Louis smiling at him, but Greg and Niall are moving away, and soon Niall’s hand is on his arm and he’s being pulled out of the sight of those beautiful blue eyes.  

~*~

 

“I thought that you’d forgotten about me when I didn’t see you last summer,” Louis comments, lounging back in the long grasses. Harry has already explained why he wasn’t there for the last two weeks of the summer before, but Louis was yet again disappointed when the boy wasn’t there last year too.  

“I was away with my mummy and daddy,” Harry explains as he twirls a rhinestone bracelet around his finger. “Well, mostly Mummy,” he corrects, “Daddy had to leave after the first week.”

“Right,” Louis replies, unsure of what else he could say to that. He knows that Harry doesn’t see much of his parents because of their work, but he didn’t know that it was bad enough for his dad to just _give up_ on a holiday.

“Where do you live, Lou-Lou?”

Louis freezes, his hands hovering above the frets of his guitar as he ponders his answer. He’s not quite sure if Harry would understand if he explained everything as thoroughly as he does to people his age - as Harry’s only ten years old, after all - but he’s very intelligent, and Louis often feels like he’s talking to one of his fellow fourteen-year-olds during their conversations.

So, he lets out a sigh and gets on with it.  (And only misses out how his parents died, which he does with everyone but Zayn.)

“Oh,” Harry says softly when he’s done, shifting a little bit closer to the hedge on his knees. Louis can see how Harry desperately wants to do something to make Louis feel better, but they both know that nothing can be done to fix it now.

“It’s okay,” Louis says in an attempt to clear the tension.

Harry frowns, and appears to be thinking about something, before he says: “If I crawled through the hedge, yeah?” He looks up for Louis’ nod of approval. “Could I give you a cuddle?”

“Um, H, I--”

“Harry!”

Diane is stood on the patio - Louis can see her legs and recognisable ankle-length skirt through the hedge - and Harry quickly turns around to face her.

“I’ll see you next weekend then, Lou?”

“Sure.”

~*~

The boys meet up every weekend until the summer holidays, when they get into a routine of meeting up every day again. Harry loves how they always have something to talk about, no matter what, but he constantly has a niggling worry of Louis getting bored of him eventually. He never seems to be disinterested - he always listens to Harry’s silly stories from school, or about his other friends - but at the end of the day, he’s four years older than Harry, so the younger boy assumes that their friendship will be short-lived.

They’re still spending just as much time with one another the following year however, and Louis compliments him on what he calls his ‘pretty clothes’ even then. His parents, on the other hand, aren’t so keen on his fashion choices, but just about allow him to keep wearing his numerous flower crowns and hair accessories. (Diane lets him wear the clothes too when they’re out though, as long as it’s their ‘little secret’. )

“Oh, Lou, I’m getting so nervous!”

“You’re bound to be,” Louis replies. “The first day of secondary school is scary as fuck.”

“Language,” Harry warns, and Louis rolls his eyes (completely contradicting the soft smile on his face). After sticking out his tongue at the older boy, he adds: “I wanted to ask you something.”

Louis sits up, crossing his legs in front of him and watching as Harry does the same. “What’s up?”

Harry lets out the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding before opening his mouth to speak. “Will you walk me to school tomorrow?”

Louis sighs, scratching his chin dramatically as he thinks. (Explains why he chose to do Drama GCSE of all things.) “I don’t know, Harold… I don’t have to go in a day early like you… I could just stay in and sleep for an extra few hours, I guess. Now, would I rather have a lie-in, or walk you to school…?”

Harry reaches over and slaps his arm lightly. “C’mon, Lou!”

“But now you’re just being violent, “ Louis points out, mock-hurt, “so why would I want to walk with you?”

Harry gives Louis a moment before he’s diving on top of him and pinning him to the ground. “Say you’ll take me to school.”

“Hmm, I dunno…”

“Say it!” Harry demands, his hands already getting to work on tickling Louis until he gives in.

“Stop! Stop it, _nooo!_ ” Louis squirms beneath him, throwing his head back and cackling so loudly it echoes across the field.

Suddenly, Harry’s hands stop, and the two of them are left just looking at one another, their breaths coming heavily as they realise the proximity of their faces.

“Harry, would you-?”

Harry knows what Louis’ asking before he even finishes the sentence. Louis’ always had this problem with physical contact - he says that he sometimes struggles with people being too close to him and touching him. He’s never explained why, but Harry tries to be as understanding as possible - despite the fact that he’s probably one of the most touchy-feely people out there.

Before Harry can move, Diane is calling across the yard, informing Harry that his mum will be home from work soon, so Harry quickly clambers off Louis and starts making his way over to the gap.

“Wait, Curly!” Louis exclaims from behind him.

Harry turns back, raising an eyebrow in question.

“See you tomorrow morning, then?” the older boy asks shyly, shifting slightly on his feet.

It’s times like this that Harry gets most frustrated with Louis’ aversion to hugs, because Harry really wants to give him one. Instead, he grins, nods and crawls back through the hedge.

After that, not only do Harry and Louis meet up every weekend and as many days as possible in the school holidays, they also walk together to school, along with Zayn, Niall and eventually a boy from Harry’s class called Liam. Liam, Harry and Niall aren’t at the same school as the other boys, but the grammar and comprehensive schools in town are fairly close together, so it’s pretty convenient for them all.

~*~

One thing that never changes in either of their lives is the presence of one another. Throughout everything they do, the other is always there - whether it’s physically or mentally. There’s something between them that sticks to both of their minds like a memo to a pinboard - just neither of them want to admit what it is.

“I really think we ought to come up with a safer way of meeting up,” Louis comments as he watches Harry attempting to clamber over the hedge.

“I’m perfectly capable, thank - _oh!_ ” His foot slips and he starts falling forward - luckily, Louis’ there to catch him.

“Hurrah! I saved the wonderful princess!” Louis exclaims, spinning Harry around in a circle before plopping down in the long grass and pulling Harry into his lap.

Harry buries his red-cheeked face into Louis’ neck, embarrassed by the reaction he has every time Louis calls him one of his pet names. It was something that started when Louis was seventeen and Harry thirteen: whenever Louis tries to catch Harry’s attention, it’s always ‘love’, ‘babe’, ‘pumpkin’, ‘babycakes’ or - Harry’s favourite - ‘princess’. This change came along hand-in-hand with Louis’ aversion to affection disappearing off the face of the Earth. Harry’s never mentioned or asked about how it suddenly was okay for him to hug Louis, but he always wonders.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and listens as Harry tells him all about his day. This is a routine they have - it’s one that they’ve followed for quite a few years now.

“Glad you had a good day, baby,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s hair, adjusting the diamante clip by the younger boy’s ear. A shiver runs down Harry’s spine, and he actually shudders in Louis’ lap. “What’s wrong?” Louis asks softly.

“Just...cold,” Harry replies.

They both know it’s a lie. (It’s two weeks away from the summer holidays - _of course_ it’s a lie.)

They sometimes have this sort of reaction to one another; like there’s a spark between them that ignites whenever one of them hits too close to a nerve. This nerve was _baby_.

Louis’ never called him that before. Yes, there’s always been ‘babe’, but there’s something a bit different about ‘ _baby_ ’.

Harry wants to be Louis’ baby.

Their moment of silence is interrupted by the alarm on Harry’s phone going off. _It’s 4.45pm_.

Harry jumps up. “I’ll see you later then, Lou,” he says. “Text me, yeah?”

“Sure, H.”

Harry sprints up the garden to the back door, slamming it shut behind him and going straight upstairs into his room. He pulls the packet of makeup wipes out of the back of his top dressing table/desk drawer and takes them through to his ensuite to remove all of his eyeliner and mascara. As always, not all of the eyeliner comes off, but it looks passable, and he just wishes that Diane were still around to help him find some decent makeup, but no; Harry’s too old for nannies now, and they’re too expensive - according to his parents. Instead, he has to rely on an alarm to know when to leave Louis to remove his makeup and any accessories before his mum gets home.

It’s all a bit of a palaver.

~*~

As time continues to fly by, and Harry is nearing the end of his final year before sixth form, he starts to notice the tension between him and Louis becoming more of a prominent thing. Louis texts him to say he can’t meet up more often now, and when they do - despite the fact that they still call each other pet names and give each other hugs - there’s something lingering. Harry’s heard of something to do with an elephant in the room in one of his English classes, so he wonders if it’s anything to do with that.

Maybe.

One Friday, about a month before the end of term, Louis texts him at one o’clock, like always.

**From: Louuuu :))**

_**sorry princess but i won’t be able to see you tonight. tomorrow? xxxx** _

Harry sighs and types out a ‘sure’ in response. It must be the sound of that disappointed loss of breath that draws Niall and Liam in, and they immediately ask Harry what’s wrong.

Instead of answering their questions, Harry responds with: “Would you guys like to come over to mine after school?”

And after little persuasion, they say yes. (Even if Liam has to be back home by six-thirty.)

“You’re having Louis problems again, ain’t ya?” Niall says, flopping down on Harry’s bed, Xbox controller in hand. “What’s he done now?”

“You make it sound like he’s done lots of things, Ni,” Harry says protectively.

Liam looks between the two of them with a confused expression on his face. “Why’s Louis a problem? We rarely see him anymore.”

Niall scoffs. “He’s Harold’s boyfriend.”

“Louis’ not my boyfriend!”

“But you want him to be,” Niall shoots back, wiggling his eyebrows like a mouse that’s figured out how to get the cheese from the mousetrap without decapitating itself.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Louis, anyway. Let’s just play FIFA or summat.”

Niall shrugs but obliges, putting the disc inside the console and setting up the game.

(Harry hates how Niall is always right.)

~*~

“You will be polite, won’t you Harry?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“And not play up for Aunt Josie?”

“Mum, I’m sixteen - I’m not a little kid anymore. I don’t ‘play up’,” Harry complains, wrapping his arms around his knees where he’s sat two steps from the bottom of the staircase. He starts picking at some of the remaining nail varnish on his thumbnail that his mum hasn’t noticed.

“That’s what I thought, but it seems an awful lot like you’re playing up now,” Anne points out, then ruffles her son’s hair. “I know six months is going to feel like a really long time, sweetie, but you’ll be okay, yeah?”

Harry nods. “I know how much you and Dad need this, Mum. Please just go and have fun, and don’t think about work one little bit.”

“We’ll do our best, honey.” Anne leans down and presses a kiss against Harry’s forehead just as the doorbell rings. “They’re here!” she announces.

Harry stands up and goes to stand beside his dad, who is currently manning the numerous suitcases they have to take with them on their cruise.

“You ready for this, son?” he asks.

Harry laughs nervously. “I guess. I’ll be the man of the house for six months, at least.”

Robin chuckles. “Too right.”

The door opens and Josie enters the hall, closely followed by her twin daughters - and Harry’s cousins - Tiana and Sara. All three women have the same hairstyle - scraped-back ponytails - and the same style of eccentric clothing. It seems like Josie hasn’t changed at all since Harry last saw her at a family reunion three years ago, but the twins on the other hand have grown up massively, both of them with makeup plastered all over their faces and hair obviously dyed. Between the three of them, they must have around ten bags, and as soon as Harry’s parents have said their goodbyes and left, Harry’s asked by Josie to carry them all upstairs to the guest rooms. Tiana and Sara stick to his side like glue, watching his every move like a hawk and later informing Josie of everything he did wrong.

Harry’s sure he’s going to have the time of his life for the next six months.

~*~

**From: Louuuu :))**

_**i’m in the field. come meet me? xxxx** _

Harry locks and unlocks his phone over and over, reading the same message repeatedly, until he actually decides to get his act together and go and see Louis for what will be the first time in almost two weeks.

He can hear the telly in the living room playing something really loud, so he assumes that his aunt must be in there, and his cousins in their respective rooms, so he uses the back staircase and leaves through the kitchen door.

Louis holds out a hand to help him with climbing over the hedge, and grins at him once he’s over.

“Hi, love,” he says softly, brushing Harry’s fringe off his forehead.

“Hey stranger,” Harry responds pointedly.

“Oh God, I know,” Louis says. “I’m so sorry, Harry - things have just been...difficult lately, you know?”

“Difficult with what?” Harry asks, worried that Louis hasn’t been telling him about something that’s been bothering him.

“With Zayn, and work and...ugh. And you know why?”

“Why?”

“It’s all because of you.”

There’s a silence as Harry takes in what Louis just said, panic rushing through him as he wonders if this is it: if this is the moment that Louis says it would be better if they stayed apart. Harry thinks that might be worse than a break-up. “Me?”

Louis holds a hand up and pauses before he’s gently holding it against Harry’s cheek, cradling the younger boy’s face. “You make everything difficult.”

Harry feels a little bit offended as he stands there, right in front of a boy who’s just said he’s the reason his life is ‘difficult’. _Wow. How nice_.

Louis must’ve noticed Harry’s face crumbling a little, as he quickly starts speaking again. “No; you don’t understand. You make it difficult, because all I can think about is you! When I talk to Zayn, I always end up saying something about you. At work, I’m thinking about what I’d say if you walked into the restaurant. It’s always you, Harry. I don’t know what it is, or what I should do about this, but--”

Harry cuts off Louis’ spiel by placing his hand over the older boy’s mouth, a massive grin now overtaking his previously disappointed facial expression.

“Kiss me,” Harry whispers.

“I’d love to, princess, but your hand is sort of covering my mouth.”

Harry bites his lip before erupting into giggles at Louis looking a bit frustrated with a very muffled voice. “Sorry,” he says through his laughter, pulling his hand away. “Is that better?”

Louis grins. “Much better.”

Harry feels his heart racing in his chest, almost as if his ribcage couldn’t possibly contain it, and his mouth goes incredibly dry, which - despite his lack of experience - he knows isn’t good if he’s about to be kissed. He’s fairly positive that he is as well, because Louis’ slowly leaning closer, his eyelashes fluttering slightly before his eyes close.

 _“Harry Edward Styles!”_ a voice screeches across the field. The two boys jump apart, and when their heads turn towards the hedge, they see Josie’s head poking just over the top of it.

“Who the fuck is that?” Louis asks out of the side of his mouth.

“My aunt.”

“What in God’s name are you doing, young man?” Josie yells. “Come right over here at once!” When Harry reaches for Louis’ hand to say goodbye, Josie adds, “And stay away from that... _thing_.”

“That ‘thing’ has a name,” Louis growls.

Josie doesn’t say a word in response; she just keep her eyes on Harry as he makes his way over to her. “Now, Harry, I want you to climb over this hedge and walk back to the house with me,” she commands, her voice calm but at a sub-zero temperature. Harry follows her instructions, and gives one last glance to Louis over his shoulder before he’s out of sight.

As soon as the back door is closed, a hand comes flying towards Harry’s face, striking him perfectly across the cheek. Harry lets out a cry of pain, holding his hand against the flaming skin and already feeling tears pricking at his eyes.

“You’re never to leave this house without permission,” Josie snaps, pushing Harry against the wall. “You’re never to go against anything I say.” Her hand grips the boy’s shoulder tight - enough to make Harry whimper. “And you’re never, ever, going to see that boy again, you hear me? Never. I will not have a fag for a nephew.” With one final slap to Harry’s other cheek, she marches him upstairs to his room, taking his mobile phone from the bedside table and his laptop from his desk. “You will not talk to anyone - not even your parents.” She leans closer to where Harry is sat hunched over on his bed. “You thought I was going to be nice, huh? Sorry about that.”

 

~*~

Halloween.

It’s the first Halloween since he and Louis have been separated, and Harry spends the whole day worrying. He just hopes that Louis is keeping a hold of himself okay, and that Zayn is there for him the whole time. Harry’s already tried to take his phone back from where he knows it’s in a drawer in the room where his aunt is staying, but Tiana entered when he was about a foot away from the dresser. Harry thinks that she must’ve sneered something about him snatching some of Josie’s makeup, but he tends to just ignore the twins’ snide comments anyway.

He thinks that he’s never been so desperate to contact someone in his life, despite the fact that his parents have already been away for almost three months now.

There has to be something that he can do.

Deciding to simply take the bull by the horns, Harry strides out of the room and straight down the main staircase to the entrance hall, where he grabs the house phone off of the dock and immediately goes back upstairs with it. Once he’s in his room and the door is shut behind him, he lets out a long breath that he didn’t even know he was holding, and dials Louis’ mobile number.

It rings a few times before Louis answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey Lou; it’s Harry,” Harry greets softly, sitting down carefully on the edge of his bed.

“Jesus Christ, H!” Louis exclaims. “Just give me a second?”

“Where are you?” There’s a lot of loud music in the background, and it sounds like Louis’ surrounded by numerous different conversations.

“I’m at Perrie’s Halloween party,” Louis explains when it’s not as loud.

Harry struggles to disguise the surprised tone in his voice. “A party?”

“Yup. Wish that you were here though; I’d be having much more fun with you.”

That simple sentence alone is enough to get a blush rising on Harry’s cheeks. He hasn’t stopped thinking about Louis since their last meeting, and it’s been more than a month since then – so it’s safe to say that Harry is fairly Louis-deprived.

“I wish I was there too. I miss you.”

“Fuck, H; I really miss you too. Come over. Please?” Louis’ tone is genuine.  He really cares.

“I really have no way to-”

“Come on, Haz. I know for a fact that you can fight for things that you really want,” Louis interrupts, determination set in his voice.

Just as Harry opens his mouth to reply, the door is thrown open and the twins are stood there in identical ‘we’re trying to be threatening’ stances as they glare at the device in Harry’s hand.

“Shit. Lou, I’ve gotta go.”

“What? What is it?”

“They…I—“

Tiana strides over to where Harry is sat on his bed and knocks the phone out of his hand, and the three of them watch as it skids across the floor to the wall, still letting out the sound of Louis’ voice, increasingly getting more and more worried. Sara then picks it up and pointedly presses the red button, effectively ending the call. Harry’s focus is then turned back to Tiana as she grabs the front of his t-shirt and leans down so her lips are right by his ear.

“Just you wait until we tell Mum about this. She won’t be happy, will she Harry? You went against what she said and just decided to carry on being a little fag with your boyfriend, didn’t you? Maybe, if we’re lucky, she’ll sort him out once she’s done with you. You don’t deserve to exist, you piece of scum.”

Harry stares straight at the phone in Sara’s hand the whole time Tiana is hissing into his ear, trying not to think about the pain that his aunt could cause to both him and Louis. She’d already done enough by separating them, but—if Tiana’s threat was true (and the twins were known for their bullshit)—if she did anything to hurt Louis, Harry’s sure that he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. (Not that he can actually picture himself fighting back against his aunt.)

“Come on Tiana; let’s just tell Mum already.”

Tiana leans away from Harry’s ear and fake smiles before following her sister downstairs, already calling out for their mother. He knows that there’s no point even trying to deny what he did; his aunt would always favour her daughters over her nephew any day. On the other hand, he really doesn’t fancy another one of Josie’s punishments.

“Harry? Can you come downstairs please?”

Josie’s voice is loud and clipped as it echoes around the house, reaching Harry through his open bedroom door. Once he’s swallowed the lump in his throat, he carefully stands and steps out into the corridor, calculating in his head if there is any possible way to get out of this. You see, Harry’s never been the rebellious type, and wouldn’t dream of ever going against his parents’ words, but with his aunt, it almost seems like a fire burns within him, telling him to go for it; to break the rules and fight for what he wants. He also thinks that fire might be fuelled by his desire to finally finish what he and Louis had almost started before they got caught.

So that’s when he turns left out of his room instead of right, ignoring the existence of the main staircase as he heads towards the back one instead, hurrying into Josie’s room first to grab his phone out of her drawer before sprinting downstairs. He quickly looks over his shoulder when he reaches the kitchen and sees Josie stood in the entrance hall, tapping her foot on the polished floor with Tiana and Sara at her side. Without sparing a single moment, Harry shoves his feet into his trainers and opens the back door, leaving quickly before he hears Sara’s exclamation when he’s halfway across the patio. They know he’s gone.

This is when he knows he really has to run for it, so he goes the way that he knows best--through the garden and down to the hedge. With his years of practice, he climbs over it easily and sprints across the field on the other side, making his way over to the gate which leads out onto the road he walks along every weekday to get to school.

Once he’s sure that he’s far enough away from the house to not get caught, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees that it still has about a quarter of its battery remaining. He dials Louis’ number on autopilot.

“Harry? Are you okay? What did they do to you? I’m coming to get you right--”

“Lou, it’s fine; I escaped,” Harry interrupts, tucking his free hand into his hoodie pocket to keep it from getting too cold. He can practically hear Louis’ eyebrows raising.

“You escaped, huh?”

“Mhmm; snuck out the back door and everything.”

“Since when did you become such a rebel, young Harold?”

“Since I met you, I reckon.” Harry waits to hear Louis’ soft chuckle before continuing. “So, where is this party then? I’ll come and meet you.”

“Just make your way towards school and--”

Louis’ voice is cut off when Harry’s phone is knocked clean out of his hand, shattering against the hard pavement. He barely has chance to breathe before he’s spun around and pressed against the wall of the building he was walking beside. There’s a lump forming in his throat and he chokes as wetness gathers around his eyes. Nothing but panic flows within his veins now, and he just wishes that some adrenaline could finally reach him and he could fight back. Alas, he finds himself weak as he’s held fast against the brick, breaths leaving him in pants.

“It’s a bit late for a pretty boy like you to be out and about, isn’t it?”

There’s no part of his brain free to think about coming up with a response, so Harry remains silent.

“Doesn’t seem like he says much, Isaac,” another voice snarls. “Maybe he’ll keep quiet.”

 _Keep quiet for what?_ The question bounces off the corners of Harry’s mind, but he just can’t get the words out of his trembling lips. He’s spun around then, so his back is against the wall and he can see the dark silhouettes of three men stood around him.  

“Reckon he has any money on him?” the third asks, glancing down at the shattered iPhone on the floor. Harry has no money on him in fact--had no time to pick any up before leaving--but because he has no way of informing these men of that fact, they start searching his pockets anyway. Once they’ve checked everywhere, only the first-- _Isaac,_ Harry remembers--stays near him, slowly trailing a hand down the front of Harry’s torso.

“What an interesting choice of clothing,” Isaac muses. “Looks more like something a woman would wear than a teenage boy like you.” When Harry drops his eyes at that comment, Isaac positively sneers. “Oh, I see. That’s the whole idea, isn’t it? You’re one of those… what do you call ‘em?”

“I don’t label myself with anything,” Harry manages to whisper.

“Oh, he speaks!” Isaac chuckles darkly. “What was that, darlin’?”

Harry shakes his head as he keeps looking down-- that’s until Isaac drags his head backwards by his hair.

“Two things, princess: first, you answer my questions. Second, you look at me when I’m talking to you. Got it?”

With the word princess still lingering in the air, Harry nods as best as he can with such a harsh grip in his hair. That name is so treasured when it leaves Louis’ mouth, but coming from Isaac, it tastes sour. Harry hates it.

“Right, so what was it that you said?”

There’s a second long pause before Harry opens his mouth to answer, but any syllables leaving his mouth are cut off when a fist collides with Isaac’s jaw. The man stumbles, the fists in Harry’s hair loosening enough for him to pull away. Suddenly, there are gentle palms cradling Harry’s face causing warmth to blossom beneath his skin--the complete opposite to the freezing cold given by the extremities of Isaac.

“Harry, baby; are you okay?” Louis’ voice is soft, despite the circumstances, and Harry just wants to drown in its smooth caramel. Instead, all he can do is nod before Louis is pulling away and turning back to Isaac, who is clutching his jaw helplessly.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Louis demands, stepping closer to the injured man.

“Oh, you’re just another one of those fags, ain’t ya?” Isaac hisses instead of answering the question.

“What would that make you then?” Louis shoots back. Harry thinks it’s like watching a game of tennis. “What would that make you, if you were just about to fuck a boy that didn’t want it?”

Isaac stumbles over his words numerous times before Louis holds up a hand.

“Ah right, I see; as long as it’s circular and big enough to fit your dick in -- which I’m guessing can’t be very difficult -- you’ll fuck it, right?”

In the following moment, Harry can practically see the second that Isaac registers all of the insults given in that one sentence. If he were a terrier of some sort, his hackles would be stood on end, and growls would be leaving his curled lips. Sadly, he’s only human, and before he can react, his wingmen are dragging him back.

“He’s not worth it, man.”

“Leave it, leave it.”

Harry and Louis watch as the two men drag Isaac away around the corner. When they’re completely out of sight -- and they can no longer hear the profanities being obnoxiously shouted -- Louis finally turns back to the younger boy and pulls him close.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. You’re so lovely; I’m sorry…”

Louis goes round and round in a cycle of apologies and compliments until Harry pulls back and presses a kiss to the older boy’s cheek.

“Thank you for saving me,” he says softly.

“Anytime,” Louis replies, now seeming much more visibly relaxed. “Now, how about we get out of here?”

Harry nods. “To the party?”

“I don’t think a party is the best thing for you after what just happened,” Louis explains. “Why don’t we go back to mine instead?”

And doesn’t _that_ sound like a good idea.

~*~

Louis’ flat is tiny. All it consists of is a small kitchen area, a sofa sat in front of a TV, a door to what seems to be the bathroom and a screen which Harry assumes the bed must be behind. However, it’s the homely touches that actually make it nice. Artwork covers nearly every wall, there’s a patchwork throw over the back of the sofa and numerous miscellaneous objects are scattered across the surface of the cabinet below the television. It feels warm and comfortable, but Harry realises with a start that it may be the presence of Louis that is making it that way.

He’s stood over by the microwave now, flicking through a pile of takeaway menus as he leans against the counter.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asks.

Almost as an answer, Harry feels his stomach clench; his dinner had consisted of a cheese sandwich made by himself, as Josie wouldn’t cook for him and didn’t let him use the oven. (Apparently, Josie likes to punish people by putting them on a diet.) “Yes, please.”

Their food arrives about forty minutes later, during which they just sit and talk like they used to—pointedly avoiding the topic of their last meeting. It’s something that Harry is sure both he and Louis want to forget. Well, of course it was nice up to a point, but remembering the look on Josie’s face when she found them, wrapped up in each other’s embrace...it was the thing of nightmares.

Louis pays the delivery man and brings a bag of steaming food over to the sofa; Harry plucks out his container of chicken chow mein whilst Louis surrounds himself with the numerous meals he ordered for himself.

“You sure you’ve got enough food there?” Harry says as he takes some cutlery from Louis’ outstretched hand.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m hungry,’ he replies, digging into his sweet and sour.

They eat in silence for a while until Louis decides to break it by reaching over and sticking his fork into Harry’s container, twisting it round and round to pick up some of the chicken-flavoured noodles.

 _“Hey!”_ Harry exclaims, trying to slap Louis’ hand away. “They’re mine; eat your own!”

Louis looks up from where he is still twirling his fork around and raises an eyebrow. With his eyes narrowed, Harry brandishes his fork like a sword and sticks it into the container next to Louis’, rapidly turning it to try and steal some of the noodles back.

“Oh, I see how it is!” Louis says, starting to move his hand quicker too. Soon, both pieces of cutlery are completely covered in noodles, and they’re both leant over the container, trying to be the first to consume their forkfuls as Louis trash-talks with his mouth full.

Clearly, they had each crossed the other’s boundary in the first half of their competition, as it eventually gets to the point where there is one very long noodle left, and it’s connected to both of their forks. Louis raises a challenging eyebrow before getting the first part of his end into his mouth, nibbling slowly as Harry does the same with his end.

As they get closer and closer to one another, Harry feels something stirring in his stomach. In this situation with anyone else, he’d be laughing and would probably have choked by now, but because it’s Louis, he can’t keep the image of Louis’ face moving towards his before he almost kissed him all those weeks ago out of his head. He can’t move his eyes away from Louis’ lips. When he eventually does however, he looks into Louis’ eyes and sees that his are also trained on Harry’s mouth - or, it’s probably the noodle near Harry’s mouth, he decides.

Feeling his breaths coming quicker than before, Harry practically feels his lips moving on their own accord as they continue approaching the older boy’s.

Suddenly, as if it were an automated action, both boys stop at the same time and look straight at each other for a good few moments, each of them registering the fact that they are only centimetres apart. Harry notices the bobbing of Louis’ Adam’s apple out of the corner of his eye, and has barely any time to think before there are lips pressed against his, arms wrapped around him and forks clattering to the floor. He doesn’t even have to register the thought of ‘Louis is finally kissing me’ before he’s kissing back, moulding his lips with the older boy’s and letting out soft sounds as he tangles his fingers with the long strands of hair at the back of Louis’ head. Louis lets out a whine at that, and Harry’s jeans tighten at the sound.

“Wait, wait,” Louis mumbles, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“Lou, I’ve wanted you forever.”

“But with what happened before…”

Harry brings a hand round from the back of Louis’ head and cups his face instead. “This has nothing to do with what happened earlier, okay? I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Harry practically sees the moment that Louis’ eyes darken; watches as the older man carefully places the chow mein container back on the coffee table before turning back and reconnecting their lips. It isn’t long before Harry is pressed into the cushions of the sofa, the warm weight of Louis hovering above him like a blanket.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear, leaving little kisses all around it. He then slowly kisses and nibbles down the skin of the younger boy’s neck, mumbling more compliments until he reaches his collarbone.

“Lou,” Harry says, and then pauses.

“What’s wrong?”

Biting his lip, Harry thinks about how he was going to make sure that Louis’ didn’t leave any marks so his aunt couldn’t see, but then he thinks _fuck it_ ; there’s a part of him that wants to see the look on her face when she notices a massive lovebite on his neck.

“Never mind; it’s alright,” Harry responds, carding his fingers through Louis’ hair to encourage him to continue. Louis does, smirking devilishly before leaning down and sucking Harry’s skin into his mouth and nibbling on it. Soon, there’s a mark blossoming below the surface, and Harry has this strange feeling growing within him. He feels wanted; he feels like he belongs.

After a few more minutes of just kissing however, Harry decides that things are going too slowly, and he wants them sped up. To fulfil his wish, he grinds his hips up against Louis’ and throws his head backwards, a quiet moan already breaking out from his throat.

“H,” Louis breathes against his neck. “We can’t go any further tonight.”

Harry’s eyes fly open. Doesn’t Louis want him in that way? “Why?”

Louis sighs, shifting himself upwards slightly to press one more gentle kiss to Harry’s lips. “I really need to know that you’re positive about everything. I’d be taking something from you that you’ll never get back, and I couldn’t live with myself if you regretted it afterwards.”

“But Lou, I’m positive that I want it now,” Harry argues.

“Just give us time, princess; yeah? We’ll get there, I promise.”

Looking up into Louis’ wide, honest eyes, Harry is incapable of doing anything but nodding in agreement, his heart clenching as he thinks about how much Louis cares. He’s got Harry where he could easily take advantage of the situation, but he won’t until Harry’s sure he wants it.

Harry wants to know what he possibly could’ve done right in a past life to deserve this.

The two boys are woken up about three hours later by the loud return of Zayn, who comes home to find them curled up together on the sofa, with some sort of Disney film playing in the background.

“Lou! You missed an epic party mate; can’t believe you didn’t come ba-”

At the sight of Harry tucked underneath his best mate’s arm, Zayn falls silent and leans against the fridge.

“Uh, Zayn,” Louis starts sleepily, "you remember Harry, right?"

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, but I’m feeling pretty knackered right now, so you guys can have the bed if you like, and I’ll take the sofa?”

Louis nods, and murmurs a ‘thanks, man’ before he’s moving and carefully picking Harry up. The younger boy wraps his limbs around Louis’ body like a koala, cuddling into him as he’s carried behind the screen in the corner and placed gently on the bed.

The final emotion he feels before he’s slipping into unconsciousness again is pure happiness and comfort as Louis presses a soft kiss to his forehead and holds him close under the duvet.

~*~

Louis is the first to wake up the following morning, and he has a moment of surprise when he registers the curly haired boy wrapped up in his arms. The surprise is soon replaced by joy as he remembers what had happened the previous evening.

He’d kissed Harry. _Finally._

And Harry actually wanted him back. The boy with everything material wants the boy with barely a scrap.

_Wow._

Being as careful as possible to not jostle the boy, Louis shifts slightly so he can look at him properly. He always thought it was creepy when people spoke about watching others as they slept, but now there’s a beauty like Harry held within his arms, he can’t exactly help himself. Harry’s long hair is all ruffled, the curls gone unruly where they settle on top of his head like the nest of a bird. His eyes are shut softly, a slight glimmer to the lids where he must’ve applied some makeup the previous day. There are also dark smudges and clumps around his eyelashes; probably for the same reason. With his eyes slowly trailing down Harry’s face, Louis catches sight of the pink hue of the younger boy’s lips - which he knows don’t need any sort of colour to make them look that way - and a few reddish purple marks scattered down his neck (which Louis feels a well of pride at the sight of).

“Stop staring at me,” Harry whispers, making Louis jump right out of his skin. “It’s creepy.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis replies. He starts gently pressing his lips to the skin of Harry’s face, smiling between kisses at the sound of Harry’s giggles. Louis then gets his hands at Harry’s ribs, moving his fingers up and down them and causing even louder bursts of laughter to erupt from Harry’s mouth as he is tickled.

“Stop! I surrender; I surrender!” Harry exclaims, trying to wriggle out of Louis’ grasp.

Louis’ laughing too now, but suddenly freezes when he catches sight of something in Harry’s hair.

“Shit.”

“What is it? What’s up?”

Louis sighs, trying to hold back his laughter. There’s a massive patch of white on the top of Harry’s head, completely covering his hair. He must’ve settled under Louis’ chin in the night because that’s definitely the facepaint that he’d worn to the party last night.

“Oh God,” Louis says, stroking his hand down his cheek and pulling it back to see it covered in the white paint. “You never said anything about the fact that I was wearing facepaint last night.”

Harry looks away, his bottom lip held between his teeth.

“What?” Louis asks.

“I was going to mention it, but I thought it looked sort of hot and I didn’t want you to take it off.”

Louis lets out a laugh of surprise. “Well, lucky for you, it’s mostly in your hair now.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ; really?”

There’s a moment as they just look at one another before they’re both laughing again, only to be interrupted by Zayn’s complaints coming from the sofa.

“So I was thinking about taking you back home after breakfast.”

Harry’s eyes shoot up from where they were focused on his bowl of cornflakes. “What?”

“Well, I know your aunt must be worrying about you, and-”

“Are you seriously going to throw me to the sharks like that, Louis?” Harry asks. “They will have guessed that I’d run off to you - which I’ll get punished for - I went against Josie’s word - which I will get punished for - and I took my phone back from where she confiscated it - which, guess what, I’ll be punished for.”

Louis sighs. He knew that Harry would react in this way when he thought about taking him home. It’s perfectly understandable - from what he’s heard, his current living conditions are simply awful - but Louis really doesn’t want Harry’s aunt to call the police or something along those lines. It really won’t look good with the fact that Harry’s only sixteen and he’s twenty.

So he explains all of this to Harry, who just continues to scowl into his breakfast and remain silent. He only speaks when Louis is washing up and has his back to him.

“Can’t I just live here?”

Louis sighs again and turns away from the bowl he was washing. “Do you really think that you could?”

Harry’s eyes move down to the surface of the table as he mumbles, “Probably not.”

“Your parents will be home in a few months, right? And then everything will be back to normal. We’ll have to see what they think of me, but-”

“They’ll love you, I’m sure,” Harry interrupts eagerly, jumping out of his seat and stepping round the table so he’s closer to the older boy. “They’ll be happy if you’re there to care for me.”

“Well, they won’t be very happy if I hold you hostage until they return, will they?”

Louis can see in the expression on Harry’s face that he’s right, but Harry isn’t exactly eager to admit it. After a brief pause, Louis moves slightly closer and places a hand under Harry’s chin, raising his eyes back to his.

“I’ll always be here for you. If you want me to be there with you when I take you home, then I will be. If Josie tries to slap the gay out of me as well, I’ll take it - for you.”

Harry’s mouth slowly transforms from its previous frown into a soft smile. He nudges his face into Louis’ hand like a cat wanting to be petted, so Louis pulls him close and presses a kiss to his temple.

“We’ll get sorted and just take a slow walk over there, yeah?” Louis suggests, feeling Harry nod against his chest.

Neither of them notice when Zayn stands up from the sofa. “Yeah, and you can go on this walk and stop PDA-ing in my kitchen,” he complains, stalking into the bathroom and slamming the door.

~*~

The weather is a bit too cold to be going on a walk, but Harry couldn’t possibly mind. He’s bundled up in Louis’ denim jacket and they have their arms wrapped around one another as they stroll through the park, chatting animatedly and laughing at each other’s crappy jokes. Louis occasionally presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek or temple, and however nice that feels, Harry can’t ignore the craving he has for Louis’ lips against his once more. He knows that when he gets home, he’ll probably be grounded and have everything confiscated again...which means no possible contact with Louis until his parents get home - in four months.

God, he’s fairly sure that he’ll struggle to go without seeing Louis for that long - especially after what happened the previous evening.

“...thought his neck was his face!” Harry guffaws with laughter as Louis shakes his head, struggling to fight the smile that is threatening to appear.

“That was awful!” he exclaims. “You tried, baby, you really did - but that was a bad joke if I’ve ever heard one.”

In an attempt to ignore the happy butterflies in his stomach at the sound of one of his favourite pet names, Harry pouts and looks up at Louis, faux-offended.  What he doesn’t expect is for Louis to stop the two of them in their tracks and then lean down a little to capture Harry’s lips with his. Harry lets out a soft sound and curls into Louis’ embrace, returning the kiss happily.

“I really like kissing you,” Harry blurts when they separate.

Louis chuckles a little. “Likewise.”

~*~

“Hey!”

The two boys hear a loud voice from behind them when they are on the street leading up to Harry’s home. Harry stops, looking over his shoulder to see a man running towards them.

“Harry, we have to go,” Louis says quickly, tugging on the other boy’s hand.

“But what if-?”

 _“Now,”_ Louis snaps, pulling on Harry’s arm one last time before letting go and starting to run away.

Harry glances between the retreating figure of Louis and the approaching one of the man and decides to sprint after Louis. It doesn’t take long before his lungs are telling him to slow down, but Louis simply won’t stop. HIs legs are going a mile a minute, and although there isn’t much of a size difference between them, Louis can run so much faster.

“Lou, stop! Why are we running?”

Louis doesn’t respond; doesn’t even turn his head to acknowledge Harry’s comment as he races ahead. Harry can see his house in the distance, but Louis suddenly turns a corner and when Harry goes to follow him, his knees buckle and he trips up the curb, falling forward onto the pavement. Luckily, his hands are out in front of him in a fraction of a second, so his face doesn’t hit the ground first.

“Lou!” he cries, feeling the pain from the grazes on his hands throbbing up his forearms. His elbows also hurt, and he’s sure that his jeans are ripped too. What is the fucking point of curbs anyway?

“Oh, would you look who it is: the exact boy I was set out on finding.”

With the sound of his aunt Josie’s voice on top of everything else, it’s enough to push Harry over the edge. Tears fill his eyes, making his vision blurry as an ugly sob breaks out from his throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you have a good cry? That’ll make everything better,” Josie comments. “Pathetic piece of shit.”

As Josie drags him onto his feet and starts pulling him back down the street, Harry watches as Louis sprints away out of sight.

Out of sight, out of mind.

_Yeah, right._

~*~

Harry can’t sleep.

The room he is sleeping in is almost completely empty, and it makes him feel strange inside - like he’s just another part of the furniture that should’ve been removed. Of course, there’s still his comfy double bed, and his wardrobe stands proudly against the wall opposite the window, but the laptop’s gone, and he knows that half of his clothes are no longer in the wardrobe. His dressing table/desk is also still there, but completely empty - no makeup, no headscarves, no accessories.

Harry, like his room, is slowly turning into a shell of himself.

How can he be the way he is normally if everything he loves is no longer with him?

That ‘everything’ also includes Louis.

Yes, Harry is pretty annoyed by the way Louis just left him behind to get caught, but he can’t help but miss the older boy. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he saw him last, but Harry is convinced that he’s forgetting what he looks like.  And God, he’s already craving the feeling of Louis’ lips against his. They may have only kissed twice so far, but when it had happened, Harry felt complete - and there is nothing else in this world that has ever made him feel this way.

His stomach growls and he rolls his eyes at it, sending down a message of, “I know, I know.”

Josie has really gone all-out on punishment this time. Not only has she confiscated almost everything in Harry’s possession, but she also yelled at him for a solid hour and slapped him more times than he could possibly count. After a while, he had become numb to the pain, blocking out her words of ‘faggots’ and ‘hell’ and no longer feeling the sting of her palm against his face. Finally, to top it all off, he was sent to bed without any food and told to not leave his bedroom until he is given permission.

Her ideas of discipline were simply medieval.

Harry’s suddenly pulled out his thoughts when he jumps at the sound of something hitting his window. Concluding that it must be one of the branches on the tree outside his window moving in the wind, he rolls over and decides to try and sleep again. That plan fails when there’s another loud knock against the window. With a frown on his face, Harry buries his head under his pillow and covers his ears, hoping that he can drown out the sound and finally drift off.

_Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock._

The sound is continuous now, muffled only slightly by the pillow. Letting out a sigh, Harry climbs out of bed and wanders over to the window. He pulls back the curtain and sees Louis sat on the wide window ledge outside.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry breathes, his heart pounding in his chest as he quickly unlatches the window and throws it open. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come back for you?” Louis replies, jumping into the room when Harry steps out of the way and smiling sweetly at the younger boy. “I’m really sorry about what happened, love.”

Harry stares at Louis incredulously for a moment before turning back and locking the window again. “I can’t believe you.”

“What? What have I done?”

“What have you done? What have you done?” Harry whisper-shouts, anger bubbling in his blood vessels. “You fucking left me, Louis. You just ran off, without a care in the world - as you do - and didn’t even think to look back and check whether I was still with you.”

“Harry, I-”

“You know what Josie is like, Lou. I told you about what happened before; you know how much of a bitch she is, and yet you still didn’t care about the fact that coming home wouldn’t be safe and-”

Harry’s harsh tone is cut off by Louis’ lips pressed against his forcefully, the two of them stumbling until Harry’s back is pressed against his wardrobe. Once Louis has pulled back, it takes a few seconds for Harry to regain himself before he speaks once more.

“You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to be fine.”

Louis reaches into the inside of his coat, pulling out a bouquet of twelve red roses. “How about these?”

“Where the fuck did you get those?”

“These were the reason why we were running,” Louis explains. “I wanted to get you something to say sorry about dragging you back to your aunt, but didn’t have any money on me, so I picked them up outside the flowershop.”

“So the guy that was chasing us...he was the shopkeeper?”

Louis chuckles. “All part of my life.”

Still battling with his inner want to just give in and pull Louis close, Harry mumbles, “You can’t just buy my acceptance of your apology - or steal it, as it were.”

“Harry, surely you know that I’d never do anything to hurt you intentionally. You mean a lot to me, and I wouldn’t dream of doing anything that could upset you, or bother you, or anything of the sort. I fucking climbed the tree outside your window to get up here to speak to you - surely from that you know that I actually do care?”

Harry bites his lip, looking away for a moment as he contemplates his next action. A good ninety-five percent of him is wanting to just give in and just accept it, so he goes with that and pulls Louis into a hug.

“You’ll never leave me again, right?” he whispers.

“Never.”

They stand there for a good few moments, just wrapped up in one another as Louis rocks them gently side to side. Harry relaxes into the warmth, breathing in the scent of Louis and smiling once again at the feeling of home.

“You know, I’ve often thought about escaping by climbing down that tree, but I figured I’d break my neck before I reached the ground,” Harry comments, his words muffled by the thick fabric of Louis’ coat.

Louis lets out a soft laugh. “Well, we can’t be having that.”

After another minute or so, Harry pulls back and looks up at the older boy. “Kiss me?”

“As if you have to ask.”

Louis leans down, pressing his lips against Harry’s gently and holding him tight around the waist.  Harry slides his hands up Louis’ back until they’re wrapped around his neck and smiles into the kiss. He shuffles the two of them over to the bed to sit down - he fears that his knees might buckle beneath him, and it’s really not the time for that to be happening.

As they continue to kiss, Harry finds himself shifting closer and closer to Louis, and when he’s close enough, he swings a leg over Louis’ thighs, only breaking the kiss for a second.

“H?” Louis breathes.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks at the same volume, tangling his fingers in Louis’ hair as he shuffles slightly to keep his balance.

When Louis doesn’t do anything to respond, other than open and close his mouth a few times, Harry just takes the opportunity to kiss him once again, carefully leaning against him so they both fall back onto the bed. Louis lets out a quiet moan and runs his tongue along Harry’s lower lip, causing the younger boy to let out a sound of his own.  Pulling back for a moment, Louis starts shifting upwards on the bed, tugging at Harry’s t-shirt to go with him and grinning. Harry leans in again, but before their lips touch, Louis’ flipping the two of them over on the bed so he’s hovering above the younger boy, who looks up at him with wide, sparkling eyes.

They just look at one another for a moment, before Harry’s reaching up for the lapels of Louis’ coat and pulling him close, moulding their lips together before pushing the coat off Louis’ shoulders and hitching his legs up so they’re wrapped around the back of the other boy’s thighs.

Louis moves back sharply at the contact. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Harry’s expression turns panicked and he freezes.

“I told you that we can’t do any more than kissing,” Louis points out.

“Yeah, but I know that this whole ‘responsible adult’ thing you’ve got going on is just a coverup for the fact that you actually do want me.” When Louis doesn’t immediately reply, Harry leans up to whisper, “You want to fuck me.”

Louis groans and drops his head onto Harry’s collarbone. “Jesus Christ, Harold.”

A laugh bubbles out of Harry’s mouth at the other boy’s reaction, and Louis shakes his head backwards and forwards a few times before he’s kissing Harry’s neck and gently sucking marks into the soft skin. Harry’s laughter soon turns into sighs of pleasure as Louis finds a particular spot on Harry’s neck to nibble on, successfully leaving a large mark.

“So, how-?”

Harry’s enquiry is interrupted by the sound of the lock in his bedroom door clicking before the door itself is thrown open so harshly, it hits the wall with a loud bang! Both boys shoot upwards at the sound, looking towards the doorway to see Josie stood there, the light from Harry’s lamp just enough to illuminate her wrinkled face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she yells, pointing at Louis accusingly, and barely leaving any time before she’s striding over and shoving Louis off the bed from where he was sat on Harry’s legs.

“Lou!” Harry cries, already reaching over to the side to help him up. Josie grabs her nephew’s wrist and pulls on it so Harry is dragged off the bed as well.

Josie looks straight into his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks, looking genuinely concerned.

Harry looks at her, completely gone-out for a second before she speaks again.

“I know he’s brainwashed you; made you think that this is what you want, but it’s _not_. You can’t believe any word that comes out of that mouth of his - he was trying to have sex with you Harry. You don’t want that at all, do you?”

Before Harry has chance to say one word, Louis is piping up from over by the window, where he is now back on his feet.

“What about the fact that he was just asking me for it, huh?”

“Did I say I wanted to talk to you, you piece of shit?”

“Maybe you didn’t, but I’m not gonna stand for you putting false ideas into Harry’s head. This boy is important, okay? He’s wonderfully different, and he wouldn’t be the way he is if he were to do what you expect of him. Being gay is part of who he is, and if you can’t accept that, then you should just fuck off.”

Harry watches as his aunt’s eyes narrow to little dark slits in her face; he can practically hear the growl in her throat as she glares at Louis. It isn’t long, however, before she’s turning back to Harry. “Let’s leave this rapist in here while we call the police.”

“Louis is not a rapist!” Harry exclaims, getting increasingly frustrated with Josie’s dismissive attitude. Louis knows him; Louis cares about him. Harry’s sure that he’d be ten times better off living with Louis than he would be in this hellhole with his aunt.

Harry’s not really an angry person, but he’s fairly sure that he’s never been so angry with someone in his whole life. (Not even when he accidentally wore one of his glittery hairclips to school and one of the boys ripped it out of his hair and threw it over the gate into the road. He got so frustrated then that he ripped said boy’s coat.)

“Look, Harry - there’s no need to defend him anymore. I completely understand. Besides”- she looks Louis’ attire up and down-”the only defence he should have is from an attorney - if he can afford such a thing.”

“But...you don’t understand; I-”

“Enough, Harry,” Josie snaps. “We’re leaving this _thing_ in here whilst we go downstairs and get the phone.”

Harry battles against the death-grip Josie has on his arm as he drags him out into the corridor, looking back over his shoulder to see Louis with a crumpled facial expression.

Harry’s never felt so helpless.

~*~

As soon as Harry and his aunt are out of sight, Louis lets out a heavy breath before turning to the window and opening it as quietly as possible.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Louis freezes, one leg inside and one leg outside, and looks back over his shoulder. A girl - who can’t be much older than Harry - is stood in the doorway to Harry’s bedroom, dressed in jogging bottoms and a ratty t-shirt. Her hair is styled in a messy low ponytail, and her makeup is smeared all around her eyes. This must be one of the twins.

“Well?” she says impatiently, her eyes flickering from side to side down the corridor.

“Well, uh, I haven’t said anything of the sort yet, but-”

“But you do?” she interrupts.

“I, uh, don’t really know.” Louis chuckles nervously, hoping that this girl will give up on her interrogation soon so he can get the hell out of here. He starts moving further out of the window onto the wide ledge outside. “Anyway, I better be going, I-”

“He loves you.”

That makes him stop. “What?”

“I can see it in the way he talks about you. He mumbles, sometimes, but I can still hear it and it’s...it’s beautiful. I wish I had something like that.”

Louis’ stomach chooses that moment to fall onto the floor, covering the painted ledge with glitter and rainbows where it bleeds out of the holes in the Vans he found in the charity shop last week. He takes a deep breath before ducking through the window again and rushing over to the girl, hugging her tight for a moment before pulling back and keeping a hold on her arms. “You'll find them. Whoever it is - they’ll be right there in front of you at some point. Whether it’s across a crowded room, or through a bloody hedge,”-she giggles-“you’ll find them; I promise.”

She nods, a small smile on her closed lips, before a voice almost identical to hers echoes down the hallway.

“What are you doing, Sara? Go back to bed, for god’s sake.”

 _Sara_ rolls her eyes and goes to leave, not without mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Louis. Louis then realises that he ought to be getting a move on; no doubt Josie would be upstairs in a bit to check on him, so he runs back over to the window and leaves everything behind.

All except Harry, who remains in his adrenaline-fuelled, pounding heart.

~*~

“He’s just upstairs - I’ll see if he’s alright with having visitors.”

Harry hears heavy footfalls on the stairs and along the landing before Josie is poking her head around his door.

“Good morning, sweet pea. Niall and Liam are downstairs; would you like to see them?”

Harry nods, his eyes narrowing at the space where she was stood once she has disappeared again. Her sickly sweet approach to Harry ‘almost being raped’ is really getting on his nerves. Firstly, he wasn’t ‘almost raped’ - not by Louis anyway, which he has expressed many times. Secondly, it’s proving to be very difficult to tell Josie otherwise, especially as she is determined that Louis has been forcing her nephew into everything that he’s done wrong in the past few months. The only positive he can take out of it is the fact that she is being lenient with him, and allowing him to have his stuff back in his room (bar his makeup, which he assumes she’s willing him to forget about). She never called the police in the end, deciding that drama was not what was needed at the time, so Harry has just been kept in his room for the past few days, old phone always nearby as he awaits a response to the numerous texts he has sent to Louis.

“Harry.”

Harry knows that voice: it’s Liam’s tone of sympathy, which is something that he really doesn’t need right now.

“I wasn’t raped, Li,” Harry says in response, still looking down at where his hands are clutching the duvet.

“Josie said you were being delirious,” Liam comments as he makes his way over to the bed, almost in a form of explanation.

“She’s the delirious one!” Harry exclaims.

Niall lets out a heavy breath and sits next to Liam where he’s perched on the edge of the mattress. “We just care about you, Haz. If Louis was forcing you-”

“Ni, you know for a fact that Louis wouldn’t do that! I’ve known him since I was eight!”

“I know that, I do - but what if he’s just been manipulating you the whole time?” Liam cuts in, genuine worry clouding over his normally warm eyes.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Harry pushes the duvet back and climbs out of bed, stalking over to his wardrobe and pulling out a pair of his skinniest lilac jeans, a white t-shirt and his most floral headband. “I’m going out to look for him.”

“Fucking hell, are you mad?” Niall asks.

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs, “but I’ll have you two there to keep me sane.” He doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Liam and Niall are currently exchanging an expression of all sorts of conflicting emotions.  

“What can I do to help?”

A voice that doesn’t belong to any of the boys echoes around the room, and Harry quickly turns to the doorway to see Sara standing there.

“What can you do to get me into more trouble, you mean?” Harry says, pulling off his t-shirt and spraying on some deodorant.

Sara turns her nose up slightly at the floral scent, but barely hesitates before giving her answer. “No; I actually want to help.”

“And why would you want to do that?”

Sara steps into the room properly then, quietly closing the door behind her before she tells the story of how she spoke to Louis before he escaped the other night. Harry can’t help but feel the way he always does when Louis has done something lovely - especially when Sara reaches the end of her story and tells of how Louis was so kind with his words during her doubt. Harry wishes that Louis was there in that moment, because all he wants to do is hug him.

“...so that’s why I want to help. You guys clearly love each other a lot, and I really don’t see why that should go to waste.”

There’s a fairly lengthy pause once Sara has finished talking. It’s broken when Harry steps forward and pulls Sara into a hug, holding her close as he whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Accepting me. Believing me when I say how much Louis means to me.  Thank you so much.”

Sara just nods against his chest and Harry pulls away, turning back to the boys sat on the bed. “Are you in?”

“Definitely.”

“One hundred percent.”

Apparently Sara’s story had done more than convince Harry that there is good in this world - it had also done enough to get Harry the people he needs the most right now to support him as well.

Maybe she’s not so bad after all.

For the first time ever, Harry finds himself grateful for the way Josie can’t say no to her daughters. Sara does a fantastic job of convincing her, telling her that she needs a book from the library and doesn't want to go out and spend too much of her money elsewhere, so she was wondering if Niall, Liam and Harry could go instead. Josie has a slight concerned expression as she questions whether it would be better for just Liam and Niall to go, but eventually agrees to Harry going too.

Harry grins at Sara over Josie’s shoulder, mouthing, “Thank you, see you later,” before he and his two closest friends are hurrying down the front steps and away from the house.

Harry can’t remember the apartment block being this grim the last time he was there, but he leads the way up the stairs anyway, silently cursing the broken lift as they reach the twelfth floor. He takes a moment to catch his breath - and gather his thoughts - before he’s raising a shaking fist to the door at the end of the corridor and knocking loudly. It takes a few attempts, but eventually the door is thrown open by an incredibly sleepy-looking Zayn.

“Jesus Christ, Harry - what time is it?”

“About half eleven,” Liam answers, obviously having checked his watch - Harry actually had no idea of the time.

Zayn scratches his head for a second before opening the door wider, allowing enough room for the three boys to squeeze past into the apartment. “So, I suppose it should be obvious why you’re here, right?”

Harry nods. “He won’t reply to any of my texts, or calls, or anything.”

“Right.” Zayn rubs a hand across the stubble on his chin. “There’s really not much I can do to help, I’m afraid.”

“He hasn’t told you anything?”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all?”

Zayn sighs. “Look, I know you think that you know Louis, but you really don’t. I don’t really, and I’ve known him for what, eleven years now? Christ.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow together. “What do you mean?”

“He’s an orphan, as you know, but his parents’ death really fucked him up. It’s made it hard for him to trust people; he can’t let you in unless you give him a really good reason, and I’ve never known what that reason is. He doesn’t need to be nursed back to health or anything - he’s perfectly fine as he is - but he just needs someone he can rely on. That’s why he’s never been with anyone but you, Harry. I think he must be getting to the point where he is used to you enough to let you in, bit by bit - but you can’t rush it.”

Harry never thought that one simple speech like that could put so much stuff into perspective. That explains why Louis used to always shy away from physical contact when they were younger - which also makes sense with the way Louis is cautious about sleeping with Harry. There’s so much to Louis that Harry hadn’t even thought about.

God, he really needs to see him.

“Do you have _any_ idea of where he might be?”

~*~

When the three boys arrive home after checking every place in town that Zayn listed for them, Harry is completely deflated and disappointed, and he can see the sympathy shining in his friends’ eyes. However, once they’re in sight of the house, Harry takes off in a sprint, the vision of his parents’ car in the driveway the only thing in his mind for those seconds. He breaks through the front door, Niall and Liam not too far behind, and straight away collides with his father’s back. Robin lets out an ‘oof!’ before turning around and noticing his son looking up at him.

“H!” he exclaims, leaning down just a little to give the boy a hug, which Harry just melts into; the smell of home invading his senses.

“Why are you back so soon?” he asks, the smile growing on his face.

There’s an awkward silence as Robin pulls back from the hug, and Harry peeks around him to see his mother stood next to Josie, looking as concerned as her sister. Harry knows why they’re being this way - and he hates it.

“Josie rang us up and told us everything, baby,” Anne says gently.

Harry can feel his eyes narrowing. “Everything?”

Anne’s eyebrows furrow together for a second as she spares a glance at Josie and then Robin. “Maybe we should go upstairs and talk a bit, pumpkin,” she decides.

Harry pauses before nodding, turning around to say his goodbyes to Niall and Liam before following his mother up the stairs into his bedroom. She lets out a heavy breath as she perches on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“I really need to know what has been going on, Harry. If you’re messing me, or your aunt, or _anyone_ around, I won’t be happy.”

Sitting down beside her, Harry looks into her warm - but worried - eyes, steeling himself for what is to come.

“I’m gay.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, it’s like a massive weight is lifted off of his shoulders - he’s finally told the person that he's been wanting to tell this whole time - but the worrying part is just waiting for her reaction. He watches as she purses her lips, and then bites them, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Right. And this is relevant, because…?”

“Um, I... because I--” Harry stumbles over his words, surprised by his mother’s mostly nonchalant reaction. She’s looking at him expectantly, awaiting an answer with her eyebrows raised. Harry sucks in a sharp breath. “I’ve known Louis since I was young and I… I think I’ve always loved him, Mum.”

“So he’s your boyfriend?”

Harry chuckles awkwardly. “We haven’t really put a name to anything yet.”

Anne shakes her head. “You kids are so complicated nowadays.” Harry shrugs in a _‘what can you do?’_ manner before she continues. “So why did Josie get us back here?”

~*~

Once Harry has explained everything to his mother, he’s told to stay in his room while she goes to ‘have a discussion’ with Josie. He can hear the yelling from upstairs.

Robin eventually comes and sits with him once he’s fed up of all of the arguing, so Harry tells his story again, watching as Robin listens carefully to each and every word falling from his lips.

“So where’s Louis now?” he asks when Harry has finished talking.

“I really have no idea,” Harry mumbles, absent-mindedly picking up his phone from the bedside table and flipping it over in his hands. “He could be anywhere.”

“And you’ve looked in every possible place?”

Feeling a little overwhelmed by the magnitude of how much Robin actually wants to find him; Harry finally looks back across to him. “There’s one place left.”

Anne spends the whole car journey complaining about Josie and her ‘despicable attitude’. Harry finds it quite amusing, and he and Robin exchange glances in the rear-view mirror.

“You’re okay now though, right honey?” Anne asks, turning around in her seat to meet her son’s eyes. Harry opens his mouth to reply before she’s adding: “Or you will be when we find your Louis.”

Harry can’t help the little smile from appearing on his face _. His Louis_. He definitely likes the sound of that.

The graveyard is almost completely silent, apart from the sounds of the breeze whistling through the branches of trees and a few lone birds that let out fragments of their occasional tunes. The grass has become a dull green in the cold weather, and there are mostly-dead bouquets laid in front of grey headstones.

Harry strides ahead along the weaving gravel path, as Robin and Anne take their time behind, arms linked and sometimes speaking.

“I don’t think there’s anyone here, bud,” Robin eventually calls, his voice echoing across to where Harry is looking forlornly at the empty branches of a cherry tree. He has to be here. It’s the last place on Zayn’s list.

It isn’t long before there’s a large, warm hand on his shoulder, and Robin is there, clearly trying to place a hopeful expression on his face and failing.

“Is this when I give up?” Harry asks softly, pleading for an honest answer with his eyes.

Just as Robin opens his mouth to reply, there’s another voice joining the conversation.

“Harry?”

Harry looks quickly to his left, to where Louis is stood, a bouquet of lilies in his hand and a confused expression on his face.

“Louis,” Harry breathes, taking a few steps closer to him and feeling Robin’s hand slipping from his shoulder.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Louis asks.

“Zayn.”

“Bastard.”

There’s a hesitation from both boys as they simply look at each other for a moment. Eventually, it’s Harry that breaks the silence.

“Does that mean you don’t want me here?”

Louis’ eyes widen in an almost comical fashion. (Harry’s always loved his facial expressions.) “No; no, Harry! I would never… I just figured that…” Louis clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and purses his lips. “I thought that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

Harry takes the final few steps so there’s only about one foot remaining between the two of them. “Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?”

Louis shrugs, still not looking Harry directly in the eye. “I dunno, I-”

Harry kisses him. Louis’ lips are freezing cold, and Harry panics when there isn’t a response right away. He pulls away after ten seconds or so of Louis just standing there, letting Harry kiss him but doing nothing in return.

After a few moments of just silence, Louis licks his lips and says, “It’s rude to interrupt, Harold.”

“Oh, uh, sorry I--”

It’s now Harry’s turn to be interrupted as Louis kisses him, much more passionately than Harry had done. Harry immediately throws his arms around Louis’ neck and leans into him, feeling Louis’ caramel presence dripping over all of his bones as Louis wraps his arms around the younger boy’s waist. All he can feel is relief, and all he can think is how he never ever wants to lose Louis again.

~*~

“Zayn. Please?”

“Jesus Christ; I’ve already said no.”

“It’s just one night--”

Zayn lets out a massive huff of breath. “And where am I supposed to go, huh?”

Louis shrugs, and with the thought that he’s close to winning, continues going around the room and tweaking things until they’re just right. “I dunno. Liam’s? Niall’s?” Before Zayn can even roll his eyes fully, Louis’ snapping. “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday - can’t you just let us have the flat to ourselves for one night?”

Zayn pauses, eyebrows raised before they drop back down and he slouches. “Fine.”

Louis thinks he looks like a spoilt brat that hasn’t go his way. He doesn't have chance to comment on it though before his phone is vibrating on the coffee table.

“ _Hiii_ baby,” he drawls when he picks it up, shooting a smirk in Zayn’s direction. “How are you?”

Zayn just rolls his eyes properly this time, still finding it creepy how his best mate is slowly but surely picking up characteristics from his boyfriend.

~*~

Louis hops up the steps to Harry’s front door and knocks three times, knowing that it probably won’t be very long before someone is opening the door. (Probably for the fact that Harry’s parents are as excited about Louis and Harry’s birthday plans, because it gives them a night on their own too.)

Just as he predicted, Robin is at the door in about ten seconds, and smiles warmly as soon as he sees who it is. “Hi, Louis. Do you wanna come in? You know what Harry’s like - he’s not ready yet.”

Louis follows Robin into the entrance hall, and the two of them stand at the bottom of the stairs, making general conversation before Harry is sprinting down said stairs about five minutes later and leaping into his boyfriend’s arms. After giving Louis a quick kiss, he says, “I’ll be about two minutes - just gotta get my stuff.”

“Hurry up then, princess,” Louis murmurs, looking over Harry’s shoulder to see that Robin’s attention is diverted. “We’ve got plans tonight,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry giggles before running back upstairs, shouting to his mum that they need to pack faster.

With a farewell, and a ‘no funny business’ from Harry’s parents, the two boys are soon on their way to Louis’ flat, swinging their hands between them as they walk together.

“So, what sort of surprises should I be expecting from you tonight?” Harry asks, playing innocent.

“If I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises,” Louis responds, mirroring the giveaway grin on Harry’s face.

“God, no wonder everybody thinks we’re such an annoying couple,” Harry groans.

Louis makes an effort at looking mock-offended. “I wouldn’t say so! Sure, Zayn doesn’t like us ‘cause we kick him out of the flat - big deal.”

Harry giggles - one of Louis’ favourite sounds - and lets go of Louis’ hand to throw an arm over his shoulder.

Louis isn’t a big fan of how Harry is starting to get taller than him.

“This isn’t fair! You said that there weren’t going to be any actual surprises!” Harry complains, holding his hands out in front of him even though Louis’ guiding him from behind.

“It’s your birthday - I can do what I want,” Louis replies. He stops in the little bit of space between the kitchen and living area, and takes his time pulling off Harry’s blindfold.

“Lou, c’mon,” Harry whines, shuffling on his feet.

Louis chuckles at his boyfriend’s childish excitement before pulling the blindfold off in one go.

Harry gasps, breathing out Louis’ name.

The room is filled with strings of pink and white fairylights, giving the whole space a pale pink hue that makes Harry look like a blushing angel as he looks around in wonder.

“I couldn’t afford to buy many of those candles that you like but--”

“Lou, it’s beautiful. I love it,” Harry interrupts, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ lips. He steps round the corner a bit and clearly notices how the screen has been moved to show the double bed made up with Louis’ best satin sheets that he got in a January sale about three years ago and never used. Louis can hear the shaky breath leaving his boyfriend’s lips.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Louis says gently as he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist.

“How long have I wanted this?” Harry asks, still staring at the bed.

“Well, uh…”

Harry quickly turns around in Louis’ arms and kisses him again. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, Lou. I’m not about to stop now.”

Louis nods and sucks in a deep breath before speaking. “So, I thought that I’d give you your present now, because the food is due to arrive at seven.”

Harry smiles, overwhelmed by just how perfect his boyfriend is.

Harry pulls three pots of nail varnish, a _The 1975_ CD and a tube of mascara out of the gift bag Louis gave to him, and just as he turns to say thank you properly, he sees that Louis is holding a wrapped box in his hand.

“One more present,” Louis says, shaking it gently.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything else,” Harry says and carefully takes the box from Louis’ outstretched hand. Once the paper is removed, he pulls off the lid, and sees that the box is filled with tissue paper. He glances at Louis, half-expecting this to be one of his pranks, but Louis gives him an encouraging nod.

At the bottom of the box, Harry finds a delicate silver tiara, studded with rose quartz the whole way along. His face is a picture - a masterpiece, Louis decides - as he gently holds it across both hands and admires every part of it.

“Here,” Louis takes it from him and carefully places it in amongst Harry’s mildly tamed curls, tweaking it numerous times to get it perfect. “You’re so beautiful.”

Harry ducks his head, a smile on his face that could probably be bright enough to rival the fairy lights’ glow. Just as Louis finds himself unable to do any other than smile too, there’s a buzz from the panel by the door.

They have Chinese takeaway for dinner – because Louis decides he has to be a cheesy boyfriend at least once – and Harry then announces that it’s time to paint Louis’ nails for him. Louis rolls his eyes but settles on the sofa anyway as Harry pulls out his three new bottles, asking Louis to pick a colour.

“I don’t know, Haz - whatever you like.”

A little frown works its way onto Harry’s face, but he soon puts two polishes back on the table, leaving blue in his hand. “It’ll match your eyes,” he says in a way of explanation.

Louis just nods, watching curiously as Harry shakes the bottle a few times and rolls it between his palms. Sitting as still as possible, the older boy can feel the ridiculous fond showing on his face as Harry runs the brush over his nails, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a little in concentration.

“Thank you, princess,” Louis says softly when Harry has finished, admiring the pastel blue on his fingernails, and sort of liking the way that it looks there.

“I think they’ll need another layer…” Harry muses as he takes Louis’ right hand in his and inspects closely. “The colour is still a bit pale.”

Louis then turns his hand over in Harry’s so they’re palm to palm before tangling their fingers together. Harry looks up and smiles, their eyes meeting across the bond between them.

“My birthday will be over soon,” Harry says quietly. “Do we have any more plans?”

Louis shrugs. “Depends. Do we?” He has to fight to stop his tone from wobbling a little as the nerves settle in his stomach. It has taken so long for him to ever feel this way about anyone - not once has he ever looked at another the way he looks at Harry. The loss of his parents cut him into many pieces, and no matter how many times every foster family, or eventually the orphanage tried to piece him back together, no one ever succeeded - until now. Who knew that the boy Louis met through a hedge when he was twelve would be the boy to give him the love he’s been missing since he was six?

His thoughts are interrupted when Harry appears right in front of him, their noses barely centimetres apart when he whispers, “I think we do.”               

Despite the heavy passionate air hovering around them, their kiss is gentle - just lips moving together gently and slowly, the only sounds in the room being those of the kiss and their occasional breaths.

It’s when Harry attempts to coax Louis’ mouth open with his tongue that they finally break and the kiss turns much more fiery and passionate, Louis gripping onto Harry’s hips as if he’s never going to let go and Harry tugging on Louis’ hair in the way that he knows the older boy likes it.

“Lou,” Harry gasps when he pulls away to breathe, moving his head back to give Louis more access to his neck as he leaves butterfly kisses up and down the expanse of skin.

“Ssh, princess,” Louis murmurs, “let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Harry lets out a low whine before nodding, but the moment is partly broken when he giggles.

“What?” Louis asks, struggling to hold it against him.

“I really am being treated like a princess now, huh?” Harry grins, snuggling into Louis’ chest where he’s being carried bridal-style on the short journey to the bed.

Louis has to laugh when Harry dramatically raises a hand to his forehead, playing typical damsel in distress until Louis drops him on the bed.

“Heyy,” Harry drawls, pausing only briefly before he’s tugging Louis down on top of him and kissing him again, their tongues meeting in their mouths and reaffirming their connection once more. They kiss for many minutes, even though they both feel like every sixty seconds really add up to an hour. They barely notice as each of their shirts end up on the floor, and Louis barely has chance to think about what’s happening when Harry moves his hands under the material of Louis’ jeans and starts kneading the skin of his arse. What he does notice, however, is the moan that rips its way out of his throat immediately afterwards.  

“Fuck, Harry - take them off. Please.”

Harry does as he is told and undoes the button and zip on Louis’ jeans before pulling them down and throwing them on top of the pile of clothes gathering on the floor. He then returns his hands to where they were before, and Louis leans into the touch, the buzzing feeling of Harry’s large hands on his skin making him feel slightly dizzy. What snaps him back to reality is when Harry moves away and starts undoing his own jeans. Louis slaps his fingers away and starts doing it for him, only struggling with pulling them down. _Are these things painted on?_

When Harry’s jeans are gone and boxers are the only things each boy is wearing, Harry practically pounces on top of Louis, straddling his thighs and rubbing their clothed dicks together.

“Harry, princess, slow down,” Louis croaks, gripping onto Harry’s biceps and trying to move his hips at a slower speed in a form of instruction for the younger boy.  Harry eventually follows, and the two of them move together in a steady rhythm, before Harry decides that it’s not enough.

“Lou.”

“Yeah, princess?”

Harry moves up a little until his mouth is next to Louis’ ear. After biting on his earlobe for a second in trying to gain his composure, he whispers: “Can I please suck you off?”

No words are capable of escaping Louis’ mouth, so all he can do is nod about six times and watch Harry’s devilish grin as he slowly moves down Louis’ body, pressing kisses as he goes before suddenly mouthing over the material covering Louis’ cock. Louis groans loudly, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Harry’s curls.

Harry finally removes Louis’ boxers then, and latches onto the head of Louis’ dick almost right away, swirling his tongue around it and suckling at the tip. Louis can hear the blood rushing in his ears and his heart pounding rapidly as Harry slowly moves his head up and down, pressing his tongue against the vein on the underside.

“Jesus Christ, Harry; _ah!_ ” Louis cries out, and looks down, only to see the worst possible thing that could appear in his vision at this time.

Harry’s lips are red and swollen, with Louis’ dick held between them, and his eyes are watering, taking the eye makeup away with his tears. Worst of all, however, is the shiny tiara perched on Harry’s head, glowing in the fairylights.

He comes. After a fucking ten minute long blowjob, Louis comes. _God, what is he, a teenager? (No; just a virgin, apparently.)_

“Uh, Lou?”

Harry’s uncertain voice drags Louis out of his post-orgasmic haze. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Was that okay?” Harry’s voice is soft; nervous. It breaks Louis’ heart. He pulls Harry back up so their lips can meet once again, and - holding back from groaning at the taste of himself - Louis tries to speak reassuringly.

“Princess, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anything quite so much better than ‘okay’. You were incredible.”

Harry blushes and ducks his head, but Louis tucks two fingers under his chin and raises his eyes again. “How about you now?”

“Could you fuck me?” Harry blurts, then rambles, “Maybe. Possibly. If you want to, that is.”       

Louis may have only just come, but his dick twitches at the idea of taking this to the next step up, and he can’t exactly say no to the cherub sat in his lap. So, his next move is to flip the two of them over and quickly remove Harry’s boxers. He wraps his hand around Harry’s cock and jerks it a few times before he’s reaching over to the bedside table and rooting around in the drawer for a condom and lube. Harry whimpers in what sounds like desperation as Louis quickly slicks up his fingers, slowly reaching down to Harry’s arse.

“This might hurt a little,” he explains softly.

“It’s okay; I’ve, uh, done it before. To myself, I mean.”

This puts Louis’ mind at ease a little as he does to Harry something he too has only ever done to himself. Harry only looks like he’s in discomfort a few times though; his facial expression always transforming into one of pleasure soon after.

It’s after three fingers that Harry makes grabby-hands for Louis, squirming as he tells him that he’s ready.

“You sure?” Louis asks, freezing in his actions.

“Positive.”

Louis pulls out, wipes his hand on the bedsheets and rolls a condom onto his dick, pumping himself a few times as he slicks himself up.

There’s a moment of silence as he hovers above the younger boy, taking a deep breath as he looks into the nervous green eyes below him.

“Relax, okay? Everything will be better if you relax.”

Harry nods, and Louis isn’t sure whether it’s a blush on his cheeks or just the light, but either way, it’s beautiful.

“I love you, princess,” Louis whispers. “I love you so much.” He leans down to kiss Harry as he finally presses in, and the heat surrounding him makes him feel light-headed. Harry is making soft sounds of pain, however, so Louis’ attention is immediately drawn to him. “I can stop if you want me to-”

“No!” Harry cries. “Don’t stop now; please.”

So Louis carries on, and he really can’t picture being here with anyone else but the beautiful boy lying beneath him.

~*~

Harry continues to shake for a good few minutes after they’ve finished, so Louis stays by his side until it’s slowed right down.

“I’ll just go and get a flannel to clean us up, yeah?”

Harry nods, feeling incredibly boneless as he watches Louis’ naked form walk away from the bed and into the bathroom. His mind is still on overdrive; his brain buzzing like a bees nest as he tries to get his heart rate back to normal. Who knew that his first time with Louis would be so… he doesn’t even have an adjective to describe it, really.

“Here we go,” Louis mumbles on his return, gently wiping the damp cloth back and forth across Harry’s stomach. Harry just smiles blissfully, not quite believing just how lucky he is to have found Louis.

“You okay?” Louis asks softly when Harry is wrapped up in his arms again.

“Yeah...better than okay, I think.” Harry curves into the way Louis is stroking his hair, relishing in the feeling of lips against his cheek. “I love you, by the way. I didn’t say it before.”

“Oh, uh, you said it a lot during, actually,” Louis explains. “I love you too.”

Harry turns over in the older boy’s arms, having to lean up a little to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

Harry then nuzzles into Louis’ neck, smiling against the skin as his eyes close and he can already feel himself drifting into unconsciousness, the feeling of love surrounding him.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and maybe an epilogue will arrive when the authors have been revealed...
> 
> Edit 15/08/14 - There will be an epilogue coming along very soon - I am currently writing my Big Bang fic which is taking up a large portion of my time! Thank you to anyone who reads this, and I really hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
>  
> 
> [I'm on tumblr!](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)


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